What Lies in the Heart of a Hero
by WrittenInBold
Summary: They say that Heroes are born with greatness in there hearts, that they are infallible. To Princess Zelda, this anecdote rings ever true of her Silent Knight, and it infuriates her. How is that he can find such great success without restraint, and yet she cannot fulfill her birthright? Is he truly perfect? Or is she wrong about everything she thinks she knows about him? BOTW retold
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The Legend

 _To the Head Librarian of Hyrule Castle: A memoire of a long-passed Hero_

 _-Master Rauru XVI, Sage and Minister of the Temple of Time_

The old Legends speak of Heroes that rise tall in the face of adversity, that within their hearts lie something stronger and far more courageous―something more―than their brethren. Legends say that those Heroes were bound by fate, so tightly woven in the tapestry of time that with their rising and triumphant achievements came ages of progress and prosperity. They tell of Heroes whose spirits readied themselves for battle and pressed on even as the walls of their homelands came crashing down in bright blazing fires and their kin lay in heaps at their feet. Legends say that in those times of hardship and misfortune their courage remained ever unwavering, and their hearts too pure to be corrupted. They were the Captains and Commanders of their people. They were the Kings and Queens of their domains, the elders and leaders and the warriors sung in song and versed in poem for time immemorial, praised and loved by those who they led out of the chains of slavery and death. Some say those Legends are as numerous and everlasting as the stars, and I am inclined to believe it so.

However, there is one Legend that speaks of a Hero of unlikely circumstances. A Legend that tells of a silent Hero who―though was strong in heart―carried the weight of duty and responsibility on his shoulders like a beast of burden set to plow the fields alone till the setting of the sun. And upon his lips he wore seal of silence in hopes that none would know his true heart, his fears and great unrest. This Legend speaks of a Hero who toiled under the sun and lay awake under the moon, who in his direst hour of need fell to the clutches of Malice, haunted by the shortcomings of his days and cursed to a century of sleep, doomed to awake to a world he once knew and loved overrun by the wilds of the land. Hyrule was a dangerous place then, far more so than you or I could have ever imagined.

But not all was as calamitous as that. In visions that glimpsed through Time itself I have seen the turnings and workings of this tragic tale. For there was still hope. There had always been hope, like a singular light shining upon a dark and desolate world. This hope that was sown in the soils of his of past, where it lasted throughout the years. A courage that could never be forgotten, for it had need not be remembered.

Entailed in these writings are the countless stories that have been given to me by Hylia in revelation, so that they could be recorded and remembered for the ages to come. Please, Head of the Great Library, see that these writings are safeguarded and recorded, I find their lessons and messages are of utter importance and priceless significance to our heritage. I must warn you though, I have recorded these things as they were presented to me, not even I could _always_ say what for certainty what lay in the heart and mind of the Hero of the Wild. Perhaps we will never know. I leave those opinions to you and to every man or woman who reads these words.

Yours truly,

-Master Rauru

* * *

Book One

The Rise of an Unlikely Hero

* * *

Chapter One

A Little Village Called Hateno

It all began in a most unlikely little place. A long gone and forgotten village, if you will, somewhere on the eastern shore of Hyrule called Hateno. It was a pleasant place, in my memory of those visions, with wide lush and green farmlands where wheat grew in plentiful bushels and the cattle and sheep grazed to their hearts content. A river rushed through the town too, as clear as any spring fed river could be, cool and refreshing on the tongue even on the hottest days of summer. The lumber there was good too, though that is not important. It was a quaint little place in all regards, but still as busy and bustling with trade and activity as any other town across Hyrule; an utterly and rustically beautiful yet forgetful home to a young woman of fair blonde hair.

She was a kind woman of meager but precious countenance, with large and bright blue eyes that shone when she smiled sweetly, rosy cheeks and all. Helen was her only given name at birth, commoners did not have last names back then as I see it, but Helen was a fine name all the same. I could not mark her age precisely, but she was well into her womanhood for certain, not a girl. Many if not most remarked her as quite beautiful in an unassuming way and she worked hard and honestly. Every morning before she would go out into the fields and pastures to sow the soil or tend to the herd she would rise at the dawn and begin her task of stoking the fire and stirring the full hearth, helping her mother lay out the food for their breakfast before sitting down to eat. There always seemed to extra, however. It seemed to me that her mother never could get used to only preparing enough food for two instead of three. Old habits, I suppose. You see, her father had died when she was young, leaving her and her mother to carry the burdens of a small village farm on their own until she would be old enough one day to marry so that her husband could take on that mantle.

Sadly, that day never came, for it seemed Hylia had another fate for her. I cannot say that fate was bright or hopeful as some. It was during a long and bitter winter that her mother contracted a harsh infection in the lungs that left her entirely incapacitated. For nearly thirty nights Helen's mother fought and coughed and fevered in vain until death took her, leaving that poor young woman of fair blonde hair parentless and absolutely alone in the world. She had no relatives. My soul hurt for her circumstances.

Still, Helen persevered with a heart of courage. A sad and aching heart, but a courageous one all the same. When the spring came the following year, she set out to run the farm on her own, but quickly came to find the task far more daunting and impossibly demanding than she had thought before. From dawn till dusk she would labor and sweat in the fields and in the nights, she would set herself to the washing and sewing and embroidering till the tips of her fingers were red and raw from work, and yet for all her hard laboring and diligence, money was no object of great abundancy. Her parents' debts were large and many, and I daresay there are men no more dogged and persistent than the landlord owed his dues. Her hearth more often that not was as dry and empty as a desert dune, her stockings and coats were beaten thin and ragged and dusty, and to illumine her sewing at night was a singular and wilting candle that drooped and pooled in its own wax till it expired, bringing lightless and cold nights.

And like the candle, so did Helen's time in the home of her birth expire.

Before long she was destitute and thrust out onto the open streets of little Hateno, where her face grew dirty with homelessness and her body thin with hunger so that even when her age of marrying came to pass no man looked upon her and thought, 'this is a woman that would make a goodly wife, I must bring her into my home and care for her.' And so, in her desperation she turned to darker corners, where the work was unclean and immoral, where men drank till their heads swirled and their judgments were as loose as the drawstrings on their purses, their senses of propriety and purity even less so. These things that I saw disturb me even now, but they all played a part in the coming of this Legend.

Now, it was on a blustery autumn day of that year that a large frigate made port on the shore of Hateno, and onboard there was a Knight of Hyrule by the name of Sir Peter Hamish, who was remarked as an accomplished and highly regarded member of the King's council, King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule at the time; a name I believe that has been long forgotten till now. Sir Hamish was a man of average stature, though he bore the air and countenance of someone much more intimidating. He was handsome in many ways though perhaps a little short of beautiful, but his shoulders were broad and his stance strong so that he commanded a presence in any room he stood in. Upon his brow there was single white scar that ran up to the hairline of his long chestnut tresses but no other distinguishable markings. If the rumors were to be believed, that was the only scar Sir Hamish ever received, as he was regarded as one of the finest swordsmen and commanders that had ever graced Hyrule since the last Hero of Legend. How he received that scar, I cannot say with certainty, for the stories were as numerous as grains in a sack.

Nonetheless, Sir Hamish was received well by the townsfolk of Hateno, they revered him as a war hero when battle came to their land from over the seas from Labrynna, though that war had been won and done with by nearly a quarter year by that time. Needless to say, Sir Hamish and his entourage of mighty men were overjoyed to be in their homeland after spending so many months away in strange lands, pushing their attackers back to where they came, conquering and pillaging. That called for celebration, and where there are celebrations there is bound to be heavy drinks. Now it so happened that Sir Hamish and his men were given rooms in the local inn to stay and rest from their long voyage before they returned to their loved ones at home, and there they continued to celebrate the end of the war with Labrynna and took to drinking till they stumbled on their own feet and giggled like children at play.

Fate had a heavy hand that day.

That was when Sir Hamish caught glimpse of the frail but still beautiful Helen of Hateno, and his heart surged with lust. With payment he took her to please himself in the night before he returned to his wife and children who awaited him. This in the eyes of the Law was an abomination, and when he awoke in the morning to behold what he had done in his drunkenness he was greatly ashamed and angry. He cast Helen away and in a furious stampede, he ordered his men to march home, hoping in his heart of hearts to never see that little shoreside village of Hateno ever again.

But the tale did not end there, for in their adultery, Helen came to bear a son of golden hair and bright blue eyes, with a smile sweeter than any she had seen. Her heart cried out dearly for the boy and regardless of the circumstances that had brought him to be she found the unequivocal love that any mother would find for her child and she raised him as best she could, naming him Link, for he was the greatest source of courage in her life. And from that love stemmed the desire for a better future for her only child, so she sent countless letter addressed to Sir Hamish, imploring him to have pity on the child and to take him and provide a better future for him, for his father was a man of great worth and standing. But imploring turned to pleading, and pleading turned to begging, yet still there never came an answer then. And so, through toil and trouble, Helen persevered for her child, and made do with what she had.

Young Link grew astonishingly quick, after all he certainly had the appetite of a glutton and the curiosity of a kitten, which in many more than one instance got him into peculiar―if not at times quite humorous―circumstances. He was a happy child then. Of course Helen kept the truth of her arrangements secret from him, but in his naivety and innocence he ran and played in the streams and fields and in the streets of Hateno, fought and roughhoused with the other children his age, laughed, cried, ate, woke and slept as any small-town boy should, an incessant smile upon his lips and a love for storytelling, adventuring, and bravery. When travelers and merchants from far away came to town he could be seen peeking his head into the carriages and carts to see all sorts of wonderous things to a boy of his age, a sparkle in his eyes― a sparkle which was almost always made by brighter in comparison to the boyish dirtiness of his cheeks. From dawn till dusk he would explore the vast world of his home town as fast as his little legs could carry him, swinging sticks like swords in play, and throwing rocks like slings. He was a sweet boy too, like his mother, quick to smile and embrace, or to offer a kind word or sentiment, even though he could not speak so well. I suppose that in all regards he was a most remarkable boy in a most unremarkable town.

But, as all things that are touched by the hands of fate, it would not always be so.

It had been just short of five years since his birth that a letter came to Helen from the north, a short note sealed in a wax crest depicting two swords crossed over a simple shield bearing the head of a crane, written by none other than Sir Peter Hamish of Hyrule, Knight and Commander of Fort Crenel, War Councilor to the King. The letter's contents, which were brief and detached, was a call to Helen to bring forth her child to him so that he could take the boy under his wing as his Ward, for the legitimacy of the boy's heritage had been discovered by his peers, causing him great shame among the ranks of Knights. This was the punishment by the Law of Adulterers. Sir Hamish was honor bound to provide for the child as recompence for his actions as a Knight of Hyrule, however the boy would receive no titles, and no inheritance. He would be little more than a servant in his father's house.

Worried for the continued safety and security of her child's future, Helen rose and took her son to the wet lands of western Lanayru, where her son was received by Sir Hamish's retainer. Though it tore a hole through her heart, the fair woman of Hateno swallowed back tears of anguish and put on a facade of gladness, promising her young son that his father would take good care of him, that he would teach him the ways of an honorable steward and wise councilor, and that one day he would grow up to be a great man, a mighty Captain of the Guard perhaps―as he insisted upon―and set him on his way with Hamish's retainer.

"'I'll be back, mama,'" the boy said in blissful ignorance as he wrapped arms around his mother's neck. "'I promise! Maybe I'll be a Knight like papa someday.'"

"'I hope you will be, my sweerheart,'" she answered, taking in the last moments of her son's fading embrace before turning aside to weep as if she were mourning his death…. I suppose in a way, this was as bad as death in her heart. Who are we to say where the depths of a mother's love end?

Such are the humble beginnings of this Legend. Who could have possibly known that one day _he_ was to be chosen by the Sword, destined to fight, die, and rise again when the world needed him the most?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A Boy of Extraordinary Curiosity

* * *

It was on the rugged marsh lands of west Lanayru that our young Hero became fast friends with Sir Hamish's retainer, an agreeable and kind-hearted man by the name of Mister Telmar. Now, Mister Telmar had been born into the service of the house of Hamish through his mother, the head cook of Fort Crenel, and raised as a kitchen boy until they found use of him as footman and then later a butler. He kept a clean run of that estate on the hill, there was not a clock left uncleaned or unwound, a fire unkindled or dirty, nor a pillow left unfluffed or dusty. Where one could expect to find harmony and order in the household, you could find Mister Telmar at the heart of it, working diligently as ever. And as such, it was for many years he served the Hamish family with loyalty and constancy till in the age that the hairs of his temples began growing grey and a long mustache began to droop on his lip that he was chosen personally by Sir Hamish to be his retainer. There was no servant that the Knight of Crenel trusted more that Mister Telmar, and no master that he would rather serve.

Which is why he was sent on such a personal _errand._ An errand of most sensitive nature, nonetheless.

"Does my papa have a castle?" Link asked Mister Telmar as they bounced back and forth on the wagon seat as they continued due west; the roads there in the Lanayru wetlands never were any good, the bridges even less so, but they did allow wagons to pass once impassible routes all the same. Mister Telmar chuckled to himself before answering, lifting up the brim of his hat to cool his forehead from the summer heat.

"No, he doesn't, though I suppose to a country boy like yourself it might seem like a castle," he replied kindly, giving his reins a quick flick to speed his horse along. The following jolt and hault from the horse made Link lurch forward in his seat till he almost came out of it, but he hardly noticed as his head darted this way and that way to gaze in wonder at the wildlife and flora surrounding them. He would smile brightly when a fish would stir up a splash of water on the surface in its hunt for insects, or when a bird flew overhead to nest itself in a lumbering oak tree, there were so many interesting sights and sounds for a country boy of nearly five to see, but he hardly paid attention to what was a foot in front of him. Mister Telmar had to try many times to gather the boy's attention again.

"There is something you should know boy," he continued, twisting and working the tails of his mustache hesitantly. "It would be best if you did not call Sir Hamish 'Papa,' you understand?"

"Why?" the boy asked, tilting his head with an innocent smile. Mister Telmar chuckled again, though it was more of a grunt than a chuckle. That always was the boy's reply, even to the simplest things. It was always 'why is this,' and 'why is that,' or 'why not.' He certainly had enough curiosity for two and an impatience to learn it all right then and there, and for the most part Telmar was glad to answer such questions. However, the answer to this 'why,' Mister Telmar was indeed hesitant to say.

"It wouldn't be proper," he said in a friendly but serious tone. "Sir Hamish is a Knight, and War Councilor to the King himself, mind you. It wouldn't be proper of you to go about call him 'Papa' or 'father,' or anything other than 'Sir Hamish.'" The implications were too shameful for him, though Telmar left that part out.

"But why?" Link replied, drawing out the last word. "He's my Papa."

"Well…" Telmar tugged again at his mustache awkwardly. How was he to explain this to a child? I pitied the fool man. "Well, yes, he is your father in a way, I'm glad your mother explained this to you, but its more complicated than that."

"Why?" the boy asked.

With a pause, Telmar asked, "do you know what marriage is, boy?"

"Yup!" Link answered, nodding his head vigorously. "That's when two people love each other."

"Well, yes," Mister Telmar sighed, "though I'm afraid that for some marriage is more about duty than love." At that notion Link began to open his mouth to ask another question, Mister Telmar could practically see the gears in his head turning, but he continued before the boy could continue. Hylia knew how long they could have gone down that rabbit trail of questions. "Anyways, that's not the important part. The important thing to know is that marriage is a _very_ serious deal in this Kingdom. It is the foundation on which we stand together. It is what makes a family strong. Now, once a man and woman are married, they aren't allowed to marry another. You understand?" Link nodded vigorously again.

"Mhm! My mama told me that one time."

"So, she did? I am glad for that too. Well, what I mean to say is that your father…" he hesitated, correcting himself. "I mean to say that Sir Hamish was already married when he met your mother." Telmar let the words sink into the boy's thoughtful head before he continued. It was a small hope that Link would understand such a complex issue for a child his age, but he very much doubted it. Still, he had to say what needed saying, for better or worse. That was his responsibility as a Knight's Retainer.

"I know this all might be confusing to you, lad, but the fact of the matter is that because Sir Hamish was already married when he and your mother had you, it made your status as a son illegitimate. There is another word for it, though you are not old enough to hear it."

"What does illeg… illigi…" the boy frowned at the word, unable to pronounce it. "What does that mean, Mister Telmar?"

"It means that Sir Hamish and your mother were not right to break the vows of marriage. It is against the law. When a man and woman are married, they are only supposed to have children with each other, no one else." Link's eyebrows knotted thoughtfully on his forehead, a long frown affixed to his mouth, clearly still unable to understand its meaning. "Listen, Link, I don't mean to confuse you. Some day you will understand, when you are older. But until then I want you to promise me to never call Sir Hamish 'Papa' or 'Father,' or anything of the sort. I want you to think of him only as Sir Hamish of Fort Crenel. Can you do that for me?" For a while the boy pondered in silence, a very ponders silence for a child if I do say so, but in time Link nodded slowly, long locks of golden hair shaking as he did so.

"I think I can," he exclaimed with only a little hesitation. "I'll try my very best. Mama always tells me I should do my best, even when it's hard."

"You're a good lad, young Link," Mister Telmar said with a smile, rubbing the top of the boy's head. "And we wouldn't want to disappoint your mother, now would we?" Link shook his head no, smiling as if nothing was wrong in the world. "Like I said, I promise that one day you'll understand. After all, you seem like a smart lad to me, I'm sure it'll be no time at all. If you ever feel like you need to talk about it, you come to me, alright?"

"Does that mean we're friends, Mister Telmar?"

"Friends?" Telmar laughed. Bless the child, he thought. "You want to be friends with an old badger like me?"

"Mhm, Mama always says best friends are the ones you can tell anything. If you ever feel scared, you go on and tell them. It makes you feel better. I tell my friend Dal back home all sorts of things, so I can tell you too!"

"Well, how about that? What do you say young Mister Link," Telmar exclaimed, extending a hand to the boy, "you shake on it and we'll be best friends no ifs ands or buts about it. A man always needs a faithful friend through thick and thin, I always say. Besides, the way I see it, you'll be coming into a big new world here at Sir Hamish's estate, and that means you'll need someone to show you the ropes. Keeps you out of trouble, right?" Link's smile came without hesitation then, and though his hand was too small to wrap around Mister Telmar's hand completely he gripped on tightly and shook.

"Don't worry Mister Hamish, my Mama told me to mind be good, I won't get into trouble."

"Your mother certainly tells you a lot of things, doesn't she, lad?" Link nodded, gazing out on to the countless bodies of water glistening in the evening summer sun. What a wonder it was, considering his mother's _profession_ , Mister Telmar thought to himself. Although, the boy certainly did seem an innocent and sincere little thing. Perhaps Helen of Hateno wasn't as bad a mother as all that, perhaps she was just a woman of drastic circumstances. And then perhaps not. But who was he to wonder or say which way? He was just a simple man doing honest work, he thought, such things were for a higher judgment.

Thereafter, their wagon ride grew quite―it was the first moment of silence they had since they began―and all that could be heard was the faint siren calls of the herons and cranes resting on still waters, the clinking and rattling of the horse's bridal, the _clip-clop-clip-clop_ of hooves on rough pavement, and the groans and creaks of the wagon. All was tranquil and beautiful this time of day out in those rugged marshes, much better than the stuffy halls and dark rooms he was used to back at Sir Hamish's estate. The silence did not last forever, however, for questions began to brew again in Link's mind.

"Do you think I can see her soon?" Link asked.

"Your mother?" The boy nodded unenthusiastically. "You miss her already?"

"Don't you miss _your_ Mama?" Link retorted, resting his chin in his left hand, his mood visibly dwindling. "She said I'd be gone for a long time… how long do you think it'll be, Mister Hamish?"

"That's a question I'm afraid I can't really answer," Mister Telmar sighed. "That is something Sir Hamish will have to decide, but don't fret, I think that once you get used to your new home, you'll find it quite agreeable. You'll receive a good education, food, a place to sleep, and of course you will learn to use a sword―" before he could even finish, Link's eyes sparked like fire and his mouth hung agape.

"I get to learn how to use a sword?" he exclaimed.

"Well, yes of course," Mister Telmar answered with a laugh. "You will be the Ward of Sir Hamish after all, it will be a part of your duty to protect the family in times of need. You can't do that if you don't know how to use a sword."

"So I can be a Knight just like Papa―I mean Sir Hamish?"

"A Knight?" he harrumphed, pulling on his mustache. "Gracious no lad, only nobility get to be Knights, deemed and appointed by the King himself. You will simply be a Ward."

"Is a Ward as good as a Knight, Mister Telmar?" the boy asked earnestly.

"No, I'm afraid not. Though I suppose in a way they are alike. A Knight's duty is to serve and protect the Kingdom and its people and of course its King, and a Ward's duty is to serve and protect a Knight and his family and estate. There's plenty of honor in that lad, don't look so put out by it."

"But Mama said I could be a Knight," Link insisted, his lips turning down in a slight pout.

"I'm afraid it just can't be, my boy, it's just the way our Kingdom is," Telmar sighed, patting Link's shoulder. "We all want things in life that we aren't allowed to have. I'm afraid you'll just have to settle on being a Ward. Look on the bright side of things, Sir Hamish is one of the finest swordsmen this Kingdom has ever seen, you'll be well looked after and trained. Why, I bet if you stick to it and get your hands in the dirt you can be just as good if not better, if you wanted to of course."

"Really?" he asked hesitantly. "Do you think I can be strong enough to hunt a dragon all on my own?"

"A dragon?" Telmar laughed, humoring the inventive boy. "Why, there haven't been dragons around these parts for thousands of years. But, I'm willing to bet if put your heart into it, you can take on ten dragons without breaking a sweat―if they ever dare to come back. You might even grow strong enough to out lift a Goron."

"A Goron?" Link asked curiously.

"You've never heard of a Goron?" Mister Telmar said loudly. "Why, they're only the toughest and strongest beings in Hyrule. Well, I suppose you couldn't have met one before, they don't like leaving home too much and Hateno is a long walk. They live up on Death Mountain where the heat can burn the hairs off your head, I tell you, and mighty Daruk is the strongest one of all. They call him the Boss up there, I guess that's as close to a King as they got, but they're as real and as a part of Hyrule as you and I are…" Link's blue eyes were wide with wonder at these revelations, for he truly had never heard of such wonderous and fantastical things.

And so, for the remainder of their long and warm wagon ride all the way to Fort Crenel, Mister Telmar told our young Hero many wonderous and fantastical things about the land of Hyrule, all the while the sun set on their backs, and the herons and cranes relaxed in still waters.

* * *

Ha, did y'all miss me?

Its good to be back after a long, rather unplanned break. And as sad as I am to say that I've lost steam on my previous story: the Calamity, I am excited to write this new one. I cant make any promises, but maybe some day I will return to the Calamity, it was about half way finished, but until then, feast your eyes on the Heart of a Hero. Please, as always let me know what you all think of each chapter, your words of encouragement and criticism are always welcome!

Something to note, as I'm sure you all noticed (those of you who have read any of my previous works) I took on a different literary form in this story, favoring a more traditional story teller style and view as opposed to partially omniscient third/first person view or an omniscient third person view. So far I'm enjoying writing in this way, there are certainly some pros and cons to it, but it is a change in creative head space. In a way I find it almost soothing, imagining an almost fatherly/old man at the campfire kind of voice in my head reading a bed time story to me. It might sound weird but its kinda comforting. Let me know what you guys and gals think.

Till next time,

-Bold


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The Knight of Crenel

Now, Fort Crenel, as I heard it called many times, was hardly a fort at all. Though it certainly did have an encompassing stone wall and a gate with a lone guard to man it, but besides that and a watch tower on the north corner there was little that spoke of the fortifications and battlements of a real stronghold. There was a proper garrison however much further down the hill, Moor Garrison as I recall, which sat right on the water's edge of the river Hylia. It was a simple garrison, housing a two score of well-trained men, all of which had been in one way or another chosen by Sir Hamish.

"You see that garrison, boy?" Mister Telmar asked, pointing to the river bank to their east as they slowly trotted up the hill. "That's the only Hylian stronghold between Hyrule castle and the Akkala Citadel to the northeast. Not only does it offer protection to the lands in between, it offers protection to Sir Hamish's estate. Now if all goes well, I think that some day you will oversee its continued security, among other things. Since you will be the family's Ward, it will all be a part of your duty, once you're old enough of course."

"Will I get to be a Captain someday? With real soldiers?" Link asked, gazing out onto the garrison rooves where trails of chimney smoke from cooking fires drifted to the sky.

"Well," Telmar began, "I suppose you could be, if Sir Hamish saw to it that you were enrolled into the Hyrulean Military, but I very much doubt that. No, I think that you will remain as the Ward of Crenel and leave the captaining of the garrison to other men. You will simply see to it that their defenses and operations are satisfactory to Sir Hamish's standards." The boy made a noise of disappointment, little more than a sigh, but he kept a good face about it.

The sun was well below the mountain ranges to the west by that time, casting a pinkish hue in the cloudy sky above. The night was closing in fast; Link and Mister Telmar practically yawned in unison, but after a shake and a huff Telmar flick the reins to speed them along with thoughts of a good stew and a cool bed enticing haste.

"I'm hungry," Link said after a time, yawning again as his eyes grew heavy. But Telmar gave Link a shake and assured him that they would be eating supper and tucking in for the night soon enough. Hylia knew they both need it. That sentiment kept the boy going for a while longer, and luckily it wasn't long before they passed through the gateway of Fort Crenel, a monstrous thing made of wrought iron that squeaked and groaned as it swung open. Mister Telmar made sure to thank the gateman, Sergeant Aron. He was a good man, though rather old for a soldier, but he kept a good watch of the place.

From there it was merely a matter of following the gravel pathway that snaked further up the hill until they came into the driveway of Sir Hamish's estate. With a well-trimmed and green yard, great tall windows, and intricately carved masonry depicting birds in flight at the corners and pillars, the estate was a timeless expression of Hyrulean nobility and class. It was neither gaudy or excessive, nor too simple or plain. Every window was spotless and neatly framed with shutters of a dark blue; flowerboxes of summer flora hung beneath them in full bloom. The stonework was expertly lain too and kept well clean even around the lantern sconces that lined the outer wall, and where the roof began there were well trimmed slate shingles of a grayish hue, not a gap or disarrangement to be seen. It was simple elegance in every sense of the term.

Even in his tiredness, Link sat in awe of the estate for its grandeur. It was far more beautiful than the quaint village houses and inns he had grown up to see back home in Hateno. However, as they dismounted the wagon and began to proceed to the service entrance on the northeast wall, his awe began to turn into a rare instance of timidity. I could hardly blame him, for a boy just short of five it must have been quite an intimidating experience. Still, Mister Telmar was patient with him, and spurred him along all the same.

"Come along now," Mister Telmar said in a warm voice, "Sir Hamish will want to see you before you settle in." Link followed closely, grasping a tail of Telmars coat and watched diligently as they made their way through the servant's hall on the lowest level of the estate. All around them footmen and maids dodged about in calm but quick manners, polishing silver candle stands or seeing to the washing and the sewing and the shining, and in the air there hung a distinct smell of meat on the spit, roasting over a kitchen fire as cooks ran pots and pans to a fro. Link's stomach grumbled then, but no one heard over the bustle. Some servants stopped to offer Mister Telmar greetings, pausing to take a look at the boy grasping onto his coat, but they never talked very long, there was always something to draw their attention elsewhere.

But they didn't tarry long in the servant's hall. Up the stairs they went in what seemed like an endless climb until they came upon a long narrow corridor on the outer edge of the estate, a service corridor for servants alike to get about quickly, but it led into the main hall and from there into an antechamber of a large office. On the other side of the room stood a tall double door painted a light grey color with gelding accenting the panels in delicate scrollwork.

"Remember what I told you, Link. A mind your manners." Mister Telmar knocked twice and waited.

"Come in," a commanding voice called, and they entered the room. Bookshelves lined the walls of Sir Hamish's office, covering a wide variety of subjects that any scholar would be pleased to own, but beyond that there was little more than an ornate desk of a rich mahogany, chairs to surround it, and a few dim lamps to light it, and a small unlit and cold fireplace. "I trust your travels were without incident?" Sir Hamish said, rising from his chair as he set down thin spectacles on a stack of paperwork. Little had changed in his features in those five years since he had returned from overseas. His chestnut hair was still well kempt and free of grayness, his face still smooth besides the arching scar on his brow, and a broad chest that spoke of firm strength earned from years of swordsmanship. From across the room he seemed to subjugate a large presence just by being there, though his face was neither hard nor soft. I find it hard to describe to you in words, but there was something about that Knight of Crenel that painted a perfect picture of stoicism.

"They were, Sir," Mister Telmar answered in a formal tone, bowing slightly. "Hot, but without incident." Sir Hamish nodded placidly, calmly walking to the other side of his desk until he finally looked down to the child at Telmar's side.

"Step forward," he said simply, neither hard nor softly. "Let me get a good look at you boy." Sir Hamish eyed the boy from head to toe with an expression that never changed, it remained that emotionless, almost unnerving gaze. "Yes…" he continued, "I am glad to see that you were well fed, I was worried you would be sickly. Do you know who I am, boy?" Link swallowed nervously, as nervously as a child could be, then stepped forward and spoke.

"You're my Papa," he answered timidly. "But Mister Telmar said I have to call you Sir Hamish."

"And he would be correct," Sir Hamish replied evenly. "And did he tell you why you must do this?" The room grew as silent as the grave, only the ticking of the mantle clock could be heard. _Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick_ it went _,_ and yet Sir Hamish's face still remained even, neither _hard nor soft_ for what seemed like an eternity. Oh, how our little Hero lost his courage then in the presence of his father, his tongue falling silent and swollen in his mouth and his feet as immovable as stone. The silence was practically palpable.

"I did tell him, sir," Mister Telmar finally said, looking rather flush and bothered. "But he is so young, it will take time for him to fully understand. Perhaps we should wait a little while―"

"I'm afraid, Mister Telmar," Sir Hamish began in a low and level tone, "that this is a lesson he must learn here and now if he is to stay here. I will not disservice him by telling him half truths and sheltering him from what is and what isn't." Before Mister Telmar could argue he turned to face Link again, and without hesitation he said, "this is how things are and will be, boy. You are my bastard son, there is nothing that can change that, though it causes me great shame and irritation. _You_ "―he emphasized the word―"are my bastard son because I violated the laws of marriage and laid with your mother nearly five years ago. You are alive and here because of my unlawful actions, and I must now pay recompense for my transgressions. I will see to it that you are raised, clothed, fed, and educated to the best of my abilities, but I will not claim you as my son, nor will I offer you the compassions of such a bond. You will not call me father, and I will not call you son. You will be the same as any servant in my household, serving as the family Ward, sworn to protect the Hamish name and its assets till you are of age to choose to leave and go your own way, or stay and continue your service till death. I do not care which you choose, but until that time you will be provided for and kept in close service.

"I am fair man, young Link," he continued in that same unemotional voice, "these things have come about by no action of your own, and as such you will be treated as fairly as I treat every servant and soldier under my wing. That I am honor bound to. But I will never love you as a son, and you will never love me as a father. Such are the terms, you must learn to understand them, and you must learn live with them." Silence ensued again as Sir Hamish returned to his desk, sighing as he sat. "Mister Telmar, see him out and ensure he is given proper clothing to travel in. We make our way to Zora's Domain in the morning to begin overseeing Princess Mipha's training, regardless if the weather permits rain or shine, the boy will accompany us."

 _Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock._

"Is that all, sir?" Mister Telmar asked with no small hesitation, his tongue feeling strangely dry and immovable.

"That is all. Thank you, Telmar." And as if everything Sir Hamish had just said were nothing more than a report on the inconsequential comings and goings of the weather, he returned to his paperwork on his desk, never once looking up to the young boy across from him too shocked and confused to cry the tears welling in his eyes. Mister Telmar led Link away in silence, a great aching sympathy in his heart for the boy. _How could it be fair_ , he thought? How could such innocence be dashed and tossed aside? Seeing the pain in that boy's eyes as he followed closely behind him stirred something inside, those eyes that were so confused and distraught, as if they silently asked― _pleaded_ , 'why?'

But Link never asked why. He remained as silent as the grave, and though Telmar tried, there was no sentiments of comfort or advice he could give, for he too was at a loss of words.

That night Mister Telmar lay awake in his bed after having fed and sent Link off to his new room, turning under his covers as that same question kept spinning in his head. _Why?_ How could he answer such a question? Surely there had to be a better way, a child should never go on without a father to teach and guide them, to _love_ them. It was then that he resolved to fill that role as best he could. He never thought of himself as a fatherly figure, in fact he had very little dealings with children, but surely there was something he could do, he thought.

It was a thought that drifted in his head and followed him into a restless sleep, unaware of the faint crying coming from the room just a few doors down.

* * *

Poor Link :( next chapter will be happier though, I promise! Off to Zora's domain our little hero goes, to meet Mipha of all people!

Until then, thank you all for the reviews, I absolutely encourage you to keep them coming!

-Bold


	4. Chapter 4

Please note two things!

1) I lied last chapter, we don't meet Mipha yet. I'm sorry! It will be very soon though, I promise!

2) I slightly changed the name of this story because I noticed that there was another fanfic with the same name that was posted in way back in July. Sorry about that, it wasn't intentional!

-Bold

* * *

Chapter Four

Cold Eyes

There was a great hustle and bustle about the Hamish estate the morning after Link's arrival. It was an amusing sight to see if I do say so myself. Footmen raced back and forth between the servant's hall carrying suitcases and bags, huffing and puffing up and down the stairs with two bundles under each arm more often than not, as they made their way to the front of the estate where there awaited travelers' wagons. The maids busied themselves with seeing to it that the wagons were well stocked with provisions for the eventual trek to Zora's Domain. It always was a scrambled mess preparing for a Knight and his party to make a trip of any distance, even for one as short as the trip to the Domain, though the servants made it seem much less scrambled than it really was. Preparations required time and patience, which often seemed in short supply in the busy morning hours. Nonetheless, things were moving right along thanks to Mister Telmar, who was in charge of personally overseeing Sir Hamish's belongings being arrange and packed up in an orderly fashion. That meant he was far too preoccupied to watch over Link.

No, that responsibility fell upon a young maid named Ellie, who despite her youth, was an individual of surprising maturity. She was a kind soul, well-spoken yet tender, and very intent on making sure our little Hero felt welcome in his new home, especially after such a frightful night before. She had heard him crying in his room after all, a sad thing to hear considering how much better he sounded laughing―which he did a lot once she got him cheered up. All it took was a little food and tickles under the chin to brighten his mood. After that he seemed as right as rain, ready to explore and help in any way he could. He even volunteered to help her see to the washing, seeming rather intent on earning more food and chin tickles for the future.

"Scrub, scrub, dunk, dunk," Ellie said as she demonstrated cleaning a small dress in a wash bucket of warm soapy water and an old tin washboard, scrubbing to the rhythm. Link tried his best to replicate her work, as best as a four-year-old could, but he was persistent, _scrub-scrub-dunk-dunk_ he repeated, taking the time to push his sleeves up on his new overshirt. "You look mighty fine there in your new shirt and nickers, young Link. What do you think of them?"

"Oh, I like them alright, Miss Ellie" he said, rubbing suds of his brow with a soapy hand, which of course only made the issue worse. She had to help him get all the bubbles off. "I like my old clothes better, but I sure am glad I have new ones. Mister Telmar says I have to wear them or else I won't fit in with the other servants."

"I'm glad to hear that," Ellie replied with a warm smile, dunking her work back into the water. _Scrub-scrub-dunk-dunk,_ that was the rhythm. "You fit in just nicely if I do say so myself."

"Miss Ellie―"

"You don't have to call me Miss Ellie, Link," she laughed.

"Oh, sorry," he said with a smile. "Ellie, who's dress is that? It's too small to be any of the maid's dresses."

"This is no maids dress," Ellie replied, "this little Miss Arin's summer play dress. She's rather adventurous you see, got the front all dirty crawling around on her hands and knees. Lady Hamish certainly wasn't happy about that, no indeed."

"Who's Miss Arin?" Link asked perplexedly. "And Lady Hamish?"

"Why that's Sir Hamish's daughter of course, didn't you know he has children? There's Arin, the youngest, and her older brother Byron. He is much like his father, with chestnut hair and all. They're ages are four and six respectively, just about your age as I see it. And Lady Hamish is their mother, Sir Hamish's wife. She's lovely, I'm sure you'll see her today before you set out for Zora's Domain."

"They're my age?" Link asked with a brimming smile, all sorts of wonderous ideas coming to mind. "Do you think they like to catch bugs? Me and my friend Dal used to catch bugs all the time back home! I sure would like someone to play with my age, since Mister Telmar says I'm going to be here a long time."

"Catch bugs?" Ellie laughed, "I certainly hope they don't, their governess would have their ears for it, _catching bugs_ , ha! She's a real stickler, old Misses Havisham. She'll give you the cold eye just for sneezing, best keep clear of her, and mind your p's and q's. As for catching bugs, I wouldn't go around suggesting it, you could get in trouble. No, no, its best if you stay clear of little Arin and Byron now, Sir Hamish wouldn't be happy if he heard they were playing with one of the servants." Link frowned at the idea, but he offered no arguments, though I very much doubted he intended to heed the warning. Children can be quite rebellious spirits, even the ones destined to be Chosen.

"Link, Link!" That was Mister Telmar calling from the servant's hall. He sounded rather rushed to suit him.

"Looks like I gotta go Ellie," Link said, drying his hands on the front of his new pants. "Thanks for teaching me how to wash clothes."

"Anytime dear," she said with a warm smile. "Just remember what I said Link, and have fun on your trip to Zora's Domain, I hear its beautiful out there. Cascading waterfalls and crystal-clear rivers and all that. I would love to go some day."

"Maybe you will someday," Link suggested confidently, putting his fist on his hips. "You―"

"Link, come along now, there's not much time" Mister Telmar said again, only a little louder. The boy apologized and turned to leave. Ellie was just about to return to her work then when arms suddenly wrapped around her neck, hugging her for a moment.

"Bye Ellie," Link said before letting go and skipping off through the door and down the hall with a boyish gait. "I'll tell you all about Zora's Domain when I get back!" She smiled to herself for a moment before returning to her work. How wondrously quick he recovered from yesterday's heartache, she thought to herself, returning to that same rhythm. _Scrub-scrub-dunk-dunk,_ repeat.

When Link met Mister Hamish in the servant's hall he hurried the boy along outside, making sure that the buttons on his shirt were done and neat and his collar was folded, and then positioned him at the end of a line of two other servants beside the wagons out front, two tall footmen by the names of Alin and Hugh, though they didn't say much. They were both dressed appropriately for travel.

"Stand here, Link," Mister Telmar said, tapping his back so that he would stand of straight. "And chin up, don't move till I tell you too, alright?" Link nodded fervently, determined to make Mister Telmar happy.

For a while they all stood and waited in the driveway, and as much as Link wanted to fidget and move, he kept still as Mister Telmar asked. The front door of the estate swung open finally after a time, and out came Sir Hamish with a regal lady with long satin hair of a rich brown color on his arm. She was quite a beautiful woman, with large bright eyes, a shapely face, and full lips that had a pleasant disposition towards smiling, but she did seem a little put out by the whole affair in her body language. Link could not hear what they were saying to one another in whispers, but it wasn't long before Lady Hamish looked at him and those lips of pleasant disposition turned sour and ill content. It only lasted a moment, though, nothing more than a breath of air before she looked away, having seemed to put it out of her mind with only a small amount of effort.

I cannot say that her composure was very revealing of how she truly felt, women of nobility were and are always very good at concealing their emotions when they want to. Regardless, I can say that as it stood, she despised the sight of that golden-haired boy, the bastard son of her husband, for he alone was testament to her husband's infidelity. Living, breathing, walking proof that he laid with another woman. From then on, her heart was a hardened as stone, resolving to never soften towards the boy.

Two more came from those open doors as well dressed in mighty fine clothes for children, a young girl who Link instantly assumed was the young miss Arin, and an older boy who was undoubtedly young Byron by his chestnut hair and a face that was a spitting image of his father, even in his young age. The siblings certainly looked similar, but the two could not have been different in mannerisms. While Byron, much like his father, carried on in a calm and even manner, neither walking to fast nor slow and always with a unaffecting expression, Arin seemed to be on the verge of breaking into a full run with a heart full of adventure, ready to roll in the grass and climb trees, a spirit ready leap out from the confines of that dreary hilltop estate. The woman that walked behind them however, their governess, saw to it that she did not run off.

"Papa," Arin called out in a mopey whine, "why can't I come with you and brother?" That earned a quick whisper in her ear from the governess, causing her to cringe.

"Because you are not old enough to be traveling about yet without your governess," Sir Hamish replied, but there was something different in his tone and voice that Link had not heard before… a certain _warmth_. And something more, there was a small smile on his lips too, a genuine smile. Such a thing was as obvious to a boy of four as it would have been to you or I. A simple thing that spoke volumes without utter a word, something that was denied to him the night he arrived. It was love.

"Besides, you're far to adventurous for us to handle," he continued with a chuckle, kneeling down to Arin's level. "In a few years when you're old enough, and when you've learned to behave yourself, you can come along, and we'll see the world together, you and your brother. I promise. Alright?"

"I guess," Arin replied dejectedly, frowning as she looked at the tips of her shoes. Sir Hamish kissed her forehead before standing, patting her head as he did.

"Good, now behave for Misses Havisham for me, I don't want to hear that you acted up while I was away."

"Yes Papa," Arin replied, returning to the governess's side, waving her brother goodbye as he joined his father's side. Byron smiled and returned the favor, although he did not seem quite as enthusiastic about the venture as his sister.

"Safe travels, my love," Lady Hamish said in a silvery voice that was soft the ear, not a hint of the unpleasantness of her heart corrupting in her tone. "Please give young Princess Mipha my best wishes, she is a darling girl. And to her father too, of course. And please make sure Byron behaves himself, oh and―"

"It will be alright, dear," Sir Hamish laughed, embracing his wife on the shoulders. "It will all be done, do not worry yourself so much. We will be back soon enough, before autumn. Take good care of the estate while we are away." Lady Hamish smiled sadly then, but nodded affirmatively and kissed her husband, and then her son goodbye as they mounted the horses brought to the by a stable hand.

And off they went, trotting past as a detachment of armed guards followed from the rear. There was a quick rush among the servants then, the footmen began throwing two large sacs in the back of the last wagon before climbing up themselves and settling down on the shoddy benches. Mister Telmar instructed Link to do the same, handing him a third sac full of clothing fit form him, and lifted him up into the back.

"Get comfortable back there, Link," he said as he clambered up into the driver's seat. "We'll be riding till the sun sets, I don't doubt. The road to Zora's Domain is a winding and narrow one after all, and if the rains come like they usually do this time of year we will have to stop."

"He'll be alright back here, Mister Telmar," the footman named Hugh said politely, "We'll keep an eye on the lad."

"Thank you, Hugh," Telmar replied, grabbing hold of the reins. "Off we go."

With a swish and flick of the reins the wagon jolted forward and began to follow the caravan of servants and guards down the hill due east. Link looked back on the estate once he was settled in beside Hugh and noticed that Lady Hamish was looking at him again with that same sour look. Link shied away from her cold glare though he did not know why, but even when he looked away, he could still feel the weight of those piercing eyes on him till they reached the bottom of the hill and even then, he felt as if there was something always watching him from behind. Link pondered the sensation as hard as a child could ponder, and yet for all his pondering he could never puzzle out why her gaze made him feel that way… as if she _hated_ him.

I regret to say he learned the answer to that question far sooner than later.

* * *

As always please let me know what y'all think!

-Bold


	5. Chapter 5

-Prelude I-

It was around a meager campfire that our little Hero sat, surrounded by the servants and soldiers accompanying Sir Hamish on the trek to Zora's Domain. As Mister Telmar feared, it had begun to rain on their way up the mountain pass earlier that evening turning the sod into a muddy mess, trapping the wagons at nearly every turn. It rained and it rained till it was hard to see even ten feet ahead of them, and although Sir Hamish persisted to continue on, even he admitted defeat to the constant deluge within the hour and ordered the caravan to halt and set camp for the night. It had only stopped raining completely well after the sun had fallen beneath the mountain range. Most of the guardsmen set up their tents in neat rows and the few servants that were around unrolled the canvas tops to the wagons and made shelter there till they could get a fire going.

Of course, Link offered to help gathering firewood, although it only ended in him being sent back to wait by the wagons after getting himself hurt. The fool boy though it a good idea to try climbing a dead tree for the small branches up top, only to find it unable to hold his weight. He earned a few bruises falling from that one, but he wasn't hurt to bad thankfully.

And so, around the fire they gathered as the night closed in, though Sir Hamish and his son were not among them. They camped out further up the pass, on a small rocky outlook, well outside of hearing range.

"So, you're the young Mister Link, ey?" one of the guards asked, twisting a tail of his curly mustache. "You certainly don't look much like his lordship."

"Mind your tongue Hiar," Mister Telmar warned, though he was not rude in tone, just firm. "It's not good business talking about such things." The guard named Hiar harrumphed at the notion but obliged and changed the subject to lighter things.

"You ever used a sword, kid?" he asked of Link.

"I've never gotten to hold a _real_ sword, but me and my friend Dal used to fight with sticks all the time." He smiled. "We we're pretty good too! I promised my Mama that those nasty Bokoblins would never attack our town, so every day we'd go into the forest looking for them."

"Bokoblins?" Hiar laughed, ruffling the boy's hair. "I glad you didn't find any for real, otherwise you'd be minced meat, boy. I've heard of Bokoblins taking down trained soldiers. And they had _real_ swords."

"I could do it," Link insisted, grabbing a long stick from the pile of firewood and swished it around as if he were a real soldier. "See?"

"Is that so, boy?" Hiar hurrahed, jumping to his feet, quickly grabbing a stick of his own and took a stance fit for fighting. "Then give me your best shot, _really_ show me how you'd fight off a horde of barbarian Boko―"

Hiar never got the chance to finish his playful taunt, for in a blink of the eye Link charged and swung his weapon as hard as his little arms could, giving the unsuspecting soldier a solid whack on the back side of his knee resulting in a loud _crack._ Hiar howled in pain and fell to one knee, hardly aware enough to stop the second swing from Link's weapon that collided with his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground, rubbing a red patch on his skin.

The whole camp burst into an uproar of laughter and cheers watching the lively display. The footmen praised, the other soldiers snickered, and Mister Telmar held his sides as he hooted. Hiar laughed too, after a time, though it was a pained laugh with perhaps a touch of embarrassment.

"You win boy, you win," he wheezed with mirth, throwing his hands up as Link closed the gap to finish the fight. "Goddess, you're a wild little tyke, aren't you? I tell you what Mister Link, you'll make a fine Ward someday I bet. You've got spirit, kid. Hylia protect any unlucky Bokoblins in your future!"

For the rest of the night the servants and guards all laughed and made merriment around the fire, and of course teased Hiar for his foolishness, swearing to never let him forget the time he fell to a boy of just four.

It was a merry time indeed.

* * *

Chapter Five

Princess of the Zora

Pillars hewn from crystal, lakes and cascades of sparking water, rivers filled to the brim with life and activity, and a people blessed with grace unmatched set to govern over it all. These are the words that crossed my mind when I saw the realm of the aquatic people of Hyrule: Zora's Domain, the great artisans and architects of the land. The mountains were tall and set against the sun so that they shone with hue of deep blue in morning and evening, and in the valleys where the deer and foxes danced in tall green grass there was plenty of shade from slender and tall trees of pine waving in the gentle breeze to cool travelers even on the hottest of days.

It was truly a beauty to behold.

However, there was little time to focus on such things, for it was there in that land of ever falling water that another thread in this tale was weaved into the tapestry of time, a thread tied to the princess of the realm of the Zora; Mipha, daughter of King Dorephan and the soon to be Champion of her people.

Her weaving into this story began as one might expect: a visitor from a far-off place bringing all sorts of change and wonderous new ideas.

Now, Mipha was on the balcony of her father's throne room when she first saw the party of Hylians making their way across the main bridge, wagons and horses in tow, and though there was a swirling nervousness turning in her core, she rushed out to meet them, squirming with avid and cautious excitement. Today would be the day she would begin her training under the most revered swordsman of the Hyrulean people, Sir Peter Hamish, the Knight of Fort Crenel and War Hero of Hyrule.

Now such an event was per the request of the King of Hyrule, not only as a gift that promised continued Zora and Hylian alliance and friendship, but it was also a chance to strengthen their own people's sense of strength and security. After all, ever since the war with Laybrnna, nearly everyone was concerned with safety and security, rightfully so she thought. War was such an ugly thing, but she had accepted long ago that when terrible things like that happened, there needed to be someone strong enough to put an end to it and usher in a new peace. Deep in her heart she knew and believed it would someday be her responsibility as the Princess and future Queen of the Zora's to accept any help offered to her in ensuring her peoples' safety, not matter how scary it could be.

That didn't stop her from feeling nervous, though. But I admired her courage all the same.

"They're here, they're here, father," Mipha shouted as she ran down the steps of the throne room, only to be stopped by Muzu, her advisor and teacher. He was a crotchety old Zora in many ways, faithful and true to the old ways of doing things as a rock was as faithful to being buried in the same spot, but he had only her best interests in heart and mind, so she found it an easy offense to forgive. In a way, she saw him as a grumpy grandfather or uncle, irritating at times yes, but family all the same.

"Princesses don't run, Mipha," he huffed, keeping a loose grip on her wrist. "Now, walk down slowly, and we will greet these Hylians together in a civilized and dignified manner." He sneered at the mention of Hylians; he never was very keen on them, but he at least had the decency to not say it outright where others could hear. A biproduct of his old mindedness.

"Yes, Muzu," Mipha replied, following in his steps as they _calmly_ and very slowly descended the remaining steps out into the courtyard to receive their guests. A cavalry of horses came first, which were frightful beasts in her opinion, but the men atop them seemed like agreeable individuals, bright eyed and neatly groomed, although two Hylians stood out among the rest. A tall man perhaps in his early forties with long chestnut hair, and then a boy who was his likeness only barely large enough to ride such an intimidating beast. Sir Hamish and his son Byron.

"Greetings, Princess Mipha," Sir Hamish said in a polite and warm voice, dismounting his horse as one of his men handled the reins before bowing. "Hyrule gives its sincerest greetings. I apologize that we are late, I fear the rain on the mountain pass caught us in a dreary position. We had to make camp for the night and began anew this morning."

"It is quite alright, Sir Hamish," Mipha replied sheepishly. "We are glad you and your men made it safely. My father has been waiting eagerly to see you, will you join us?"

"Of course, Princess, but I ask that you would please allow us to make ourselves presentable for your father."

"Of course, Sir Hamish," Muzu answered, gesturing them to the apartments prepared for them in the west wing. Mipha breathed relievedly, she always grew nervous when greeting new people, especially when they were as renown as someone like Sir Hamish. "The servants will see you in… and your men, there is a place prepared for them as well. We will await your return." Words of gratitude passed among them after that, and ever slowly the caravan of Hylians began funneling out and unloading the wagons into their temporary apartments. Muzu allowed Mipha to stay and observe them, though he personally turned his nose up to the idea of 'observing those _Hylians.'_ But he kept that quiet.

Mipha watched the Hylians work with great interest, noting how they interreacted with one another and how vastly different they all looked. Some were tall, some were short, some wide, some thin, some blond haired, others brown, or grey, and one of them even had hair as red as a Gerudo, though his skin was as pale as any she had seen. Hylians were a strange species indeed, and that fascinated her beyond belief.

There was one Hylian, however, that especially caught her eye. A young boy of golden hair, no taller than her shoulder. Hylian age was a complex idea to her, they always seemed to grow so fast and die so young comparatively to Zoras, but from her educated guess he could not have been no more than five years old. His cheeks were still round and chubby like a baby's cheeks, and of course there was his height, but despite that he seemed quite coordinated for a child as he followed closely behind a slender man with a long droopy mustache, carrying a large rucksack over his shoulder.

"Muzu, can I go talk to some of the Hylians?" Mipha asked, intrigued by this little Hylian.

"Talk to them?" he harrumphed with a grumbly grunt. "I suppose, but don't get in their way, they're rather clumsy people, they'll topple you over if you're not paying attention." Mipha payed little mind to Muzu's pointed words as she walked―not ran―quickly to greet some of the Hylians at work. Naturally she was drawn to the little golden-haired boy.

"Hello! I'm Mipha," she said simply, clasping her hands in front of her. "Who are you?" The boy turned around, seeming rather surprised to see her there, but as he looked her up and down his eyes grew wider with awe.

"You're a Zora," he exclaimed with a wide mouth. "I've talked to a Zora before―" The boy was interrupted when the man he was following previously noticed his absence.

"Link, who are you talking too? Oh! Princess Mipha, forgive me for not noticing you," the man said, bowing slightly, motioning for the boy to do the same. "Mister Telmar at your service, I am Sir Hamish's retainer. I must say it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mister Telmar," she replied bashfully. "I'm glad you made the trip from the wetlands safely, you and…" she nodded to the boy.

"This is young Link," Mister Telmar rushed to say. "He is Sir Hamish's Ward. In training, of course! He is just a young lad, short of five, but in a few years we'll have him trained up and educated. He will be an exemplary swordsman and steward in no time at all. Isn't that right, Link?"

"Mhm!" the boy said, nodding vigorously with a smile that reached ear to ear. "Mister Telmar says I'm already shaping out to be the best swordsman ever. I already beat old Mister Hiar in a fight―ow!" Link rubbed his ear where Mister Telmar had flicked it.

"Don't be vain boy," he warned, "its not becoming of a Ward. Forgive him, Princess, he won a little skirmish against one of the guards last night at our encampment, it was a rather humorous display really, but ever since then he's grown a head a little too big for his body." Mister Telmar chuckled a little and tugged on his mustache. "But, all I have to do is remind him that he fell out of a tree yesterday and bruised himself, and it will humble him right up, isn't that right, Link?" The tips of the boy's ears grew red as he frowned at his boots, but he said nothing. "Ah, but I assure you, he is a good boy, Princess. Perhaps a little too curious for his own good, but a kind and smart boy."

"My, my," Mipha laughed. "It seems you're quite the little adventurer then. Where are your bruises? Show them to me, there is something I can do about it." Link looked up in surprise at her, a rather endearing expression in her opinion, but after a spell he rolled up his sleeve and showed her his arm, which sported a few large purple bruises.

"I see," Mipha tsk'd, "this simply won't do. Trust me now, Link, I will make it all better." It was a simple thing to fix really, she had been practicing the ancient art of Zora Healing for nearly a year by that time, and her father had always said she had an exceptional skill in it, so all it took was a little focus and effort before a sparkling white and blue light began to glow from the palm of her hand. If it were possible, Link's eyes grew even wider with wonder at the sight, his jaw hanging open. Mipha smiled at the sight.

"How did you do that?" Link asked in wonder as he examined where the bruises once were. "Are you a magician?"

"A magician?" Mipha laughed, "no of course not. It's just an old technique of Zora Healing. Quite simple once you know how."

"How kind of you Princess," Mister Telmar chimed in, a rather surprised expression on his face as well. "Link, what do you say to the Princess for helping you?"

"Thank you, Princess," Link beamed, that infectious smile wide on his lips. "I can't wait to tell my Mama about this someday!"

"Someday, boy, someday. Oh my, look at the time, Link." Mister Telmar took the boy under wing and bowed again. "Forgive us Princess, but we must return to our work. Sir Hamish will want to change before meeting your father."

"Of course, Mister Telmar," Mipha answered kindly. "I am sorry to have kept you for so long. Please enjoy your stay in our home."

"Thank you, Princess, I'm certain we will. Good day, Princess." Bowing again, Mister Telmar led Link away to the apartments, hurrying him along till the boy nearly ran. Link of course turned back once to wave and shouted, "Goodbye Mipha," to which Mister Telmar quickly corrected, ensuring he added the honorific, "Princess" first.

Later that night just before bed, Mipha recorded all the day's exciting occurrences in her diary, a habit she had formed from an early age.

* * *

 _"At the request of Hyrule's King, a group of outsiders came to greet us at the domain. One of them was a Hylian child of only about four years of age. His name was Link. He made quite a first impression. He was curious and full of energy, with a ready smile. Are all Hylian children that way? One thing that surely sets him apart is his swordsmanship, which I hear is exceptional. He has even bested adults. He must be somewhat reckless, however, as he was covered in bruises. Wishing to be helpful, I healed his wounds for him. It must have been his first time seeing healing magic, as he looked up at me with big, round eyes. It was...adorable."_


	6. Chapter 6

-Prelude II-

 _"Today, as the sun rose, and a new day was born, my daughter, too, joined this sweet world. In keeping with the traditions of the royal family, I have decided to name her...Zelda. I am not a man accustomed to frivolous musings, but now seems as good a time as any to begin my royal memorandum."_

"Blessed be the day, our Princess is born." That was the joyous cry of the of Hyrule Castle. And a joyous celebration it was indeed. Denizens from all across Hyrule were sent word of her birth and rejoiced, the bright and new Princess Zelda had finally come. For a time, all seemed right in the world for the King and his Queen and their people. The war with Labyrnna had been long ended a done away with, their daughter was tucked away safely in her crib, and peace was the new battle cry of the people. It was a time of giving gifts and seeking harmony.

From the north, where the Rito patrolled the skies on wing, there came gifts of sweet incenses and the first cuts of the finest grains in celebration for the new Princess.

From the east, where the smoking peak of Death Mountain loomed over the land, there came gifts of precious gems and gold paid in homage to the future crown of Hyrule.

From the south, where the water always ran deep under the ground, there came restorative oils made from the delicate flowers of the mountains, whose value was worth its weight in coin.

And from the west, where the light of a midnight star shone down upon the dunes of the desert as guidance, there came a friend of the sands, whose love for the Queen and her new daughter was as priceless as the bond of sisterhood.

To many in the land of Hyrule these happenings were tidings of comfort and joy, but to another it was the sign of a terrible fate, for a prophecy was given to a lone Sheikah fortune teller; a prophecy that spoke of their kingdom's eventual doom. It followed as such:

 _10,000 years a great evil has slept, dormant beneath the ground.  
_ _10,000 years a great evil has slept, and yet it stirs to wake and move around.  
_ _10,000 years a great evil has been locked away, and 10,000 it did wait.  
_ _10,000 years have come and pass, and the time grows ever late._

 _Resurrect the relics of old, O Hyrule, resurrect or face your doom.  
_ _Resurrect the relics of old, O Hyrule, lest face your kingdom's doom._

 _North, east, south, west.  
_ _From these lands gifts shall come.  
_ _North, east, south, west  
_ _So too come the parts of a greater sum._

 _Heed these words, O Hyrule, heed and cower in fear  
_ _Heed these words, O Hyrule, lest we lose all that's held dear._

 _What came before will come again and come again it will:_

 _The Blood, the Sword, and the Curse renewed.  
_ _The Blood, the Sword; Malice will ensue._

* * *

Chapter Six

Summer's End

Cool water over the scales, that was Mipha's favorite way to end they day after hard training with her spear. It had been two months already since Sir Hamish and his men had arrived and he was a man of punctual instruction; he wasted very little time in seeing to her training. She was glad of that of course, but the muscles in her arms and legs especially always seemed to be in a particularly tight pinch or throbbing with a dull soreness, but the water from upper Zorana seemed to help soothe those pains.

Although, there of course was another reason she enjoyed those evenings in the flowing waters: her new friend was always right beside her, splashing and playing about with that boyish curiosity that seemed so fitting of him in his youth. Still, in those two months he had grown considerably, especially in the Zora's eyes. He was ever so slightly taller, his cheeks a little slimmer, and his golden hair a little longer. Hylian growth fascinated Mipha to no end. It seemed nearly impossible really how fast they changed. His speech had improved too. Not that it was ever particularly slow or lacking for his age, it was just a simple fact that in there time together―and his tutelage under a proper instructor―he had learned new words and how to pronounce them more accurately. Soon it would lose that childish charm. His swordplay had improved as well, even though that part of his training was taken less seriously due to his young age. But he really did seem to have a knack for it.

However, despite all his success, there was one thing Link was absolutely abysmal at… Swimming.

Now, that was quite a problem, considering the whole of Zora's Domain was practically nothing _but_ water, so Mipha set her mind on teaching the silly boy how to swim. So far, after two months of practice every day at the little pool before one of the many waterfalls of the Domain, she had only managed to teach him how to stay afloat―their first try ended with him plummeting to the bottom of the tarn like a rock―and now they were slowly working their way towards perfecting the breaststroke.

I can say with utter surety that the Princess of the Zora must have been patient enough to watch grass grow.

"Keep your head above the water, Link―oh! Careful!" Mipha had to clasp a hand over her mouth to hide her laugh. Watching him flop around like a fish out of water was really quite comical in her opinion, if not a little ironic, but he was ever so determined to figure it out, insisting at every turn that he could do it. She admired his dedication, and perhaps she was a little endeared.

"I think… I think… I think I'm getting it Mipha," he huffed with only a touch of confidence. He kicked and swung, kicked and swung, yet for all his kicking and swinging the best he was doing was staying afloat, spinning in slow circles.

"You're almost there, try kicking and swinging at the same time…" The boy nodded determinedly and followed her instruction as best he could. Water began splashing wildly all around as he kicked and swung, but in a moment of clarity the concept seemed to click in his head. "Yes! That's it! That's it!" Mipha jumped with excitement in the shallows watching him make the first bit of progress in a month. "Keep going, one-two, three-four, one-two, three-four." That was the beat she taught him to focus. "Look Link, you're doing it!"

"I am?" he laughed, looking around him as he began making strides. "Look Mipha! I'm doing it!" A smile beamed on the boy's lips as he began increasing his pace, sending him forward in small surges. Back and forth he went with delight till he grew accustom to the motion, but after a time his arms started to tire and the gentle current began to drift him down to the cluster of rocks stretching out above the waterfall.

"Careful Link," Mipha warned, pointing to where the waters could pose a threat. They were gentle currents really, nothing to be too worried about, but they could still be dangerous if he wasn't careful. All it took was one mistake and you'd go flying over the edge. Luckily, Link gripped on to the rocky crag that reached the waterfalls edge and pulled himself up to safety, taking deeps breaths to recover. Mipha dove in and joined him there, ruffling his hair in praise.

"See Link, I knew you would figure out eventually."

"Thanks for showing me how, Mipha," Link replied, smiling ear to ear again. "I sure am glad we're friends. I've missed having friends ever since I left home." Link paused and crinkled his nose. "Well, I had Mister Telmar of course, and I sure like him a lot, but he's not a kid like you and me. He doesn't like to go swimming or play any games like you do."

"Is that so?" Mipha said, sitting down on the rocky outlook. "What about Sir Hamish's son, Byron? He's just about your age, have you not played with him before?"

"Mister Telmar says I'm not supposed to play with him," Link answered. Mipha noticed his smile diminish and wondered why, though he continued before she could ask. "He says servants are allowed to play with Byron or his sister, and that means me."

"But we all train together, don't we?" That is, their lessons usually consisted of a class of ten or so students, mostly Zora, though Link and Byron were the only two Hylians in the group, both the youngest as well. Naturally, they usually ended up as practice partners because they were similar in size and skill, even if it was more of a formality than _real_ training. "I'm sure Sir Hamish wouldn't mind if we all get along, now would he?" It seemed odd to her, but Link simply looked away distantly and shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to pressure him about it, so Mipha left it at that. Silence fell between them for a while, a peaceful silence, but it wasn't a very long till that curious nagging sensation began to plague our young hero again, urging him to make his way to the edge of the outlook and gazed down on the pools of water a hundred feet below.

"Be careful Link," Mipha piped, standing quickly as a rush of nervousness came over her. "It's a long fall, only well practiced divers can make that jump safely! Even Zora have to be careful."

"Do you think I could learn to dive off it someday?" Link asked, raising his voice to cut over the roar of the falls. "It sure would be fun."

"You aren't scared by heights?" Mipha asked, carefully and _slowly_ crawling her way over to the edge. She felt silly about it―such a thing should have come to her as naturally as breathing as a full-fledged Zora―but just thinking about peering over that sheer drop made her heart skip a beat. Each inch she came closer, the harder and faster it beat, and her breath drew shorter. "Link, why don't you step back a little, you're making me nervous."

"Aw, I'll be alright Mipha," he puffed, putting his fists on his hips to show that he wasn't afraid. "Are _you_ afraid of heights?"

"Terrified actually," she answered sheepishly. "I don't think I could ever manage the courage to jump off there."

"Why? You're a Zora after all, don't you do it all the time?"

"Not from these heights," she insisted, stopping in her crawl as she was unable to make her self get any closer to the edge. "Link, please, come closer to safety. Its slippery up here, I don't want you to fall." Link sighed but did as she asked and nonchalantly tip toed back to the water's edge and sat down beside her. With the setting sun above the blue peaks of Zora's Domain as their backdrop, Link and Mipha sat for a while, simply taking about the inconsequential things; the weather, the comings and goings of the court―including the exciting news of the new Princess of Hyrule―but also their hopes and dreams for the future.

Link of course told Mipha that he wanted to be a Knight of Hyrule, although he had already accepted that he never could be one since he was of common birth. "I guess I'll just have to settle on being Sir Hamish's Ward," he explained, resting his chin in his palm, a melancholy look in his demeanor.

"You never know, Knights have been risen from common backgrounds before, Link. Maybe someday you'll be recognized by the King as a man of valor. You're certainly brave enough, and reckless enough!" Mipha roughed his hair up in spite of that, in good humor of course. "Although you may never get the chance to prove yourself if you go talking about jumping off waterfalls for fun, there are somethings I can't heal you know."

"I know, I know," Link giggled, fixing his hair, though it only looked just as unruly as before. "I won't get hurt anymore."

"Oh, I very much doubt that," she laughed. "You're far too curious to not get yourself hurt at every turn. But don't you worry about that, I'll always be right here to heal you if you get yourself hurt." Link smiled at that, the same smile as he always had, but said no more on the matter and instead jumped back into the water with a loud splash.

"I better get going," he said once he resurfaced and began pacing his way back to the shore with a newfound adeptness. A far cry from a perfect form, but well enough to make it by. "Mister Telmar will be wondering where I went, and I'm hungry."

"Will I see you tomorrow, Link?" Mipha asked hopefully. "We have so little time left."

"Mhm! Mister Telmar says we aren't going back home till next week. We'll have plenty of time to go swimming after training, even if the waters cold." Trudging through the shallows of the pool Link shook his head and body as a dog would do to free his coat of water and with one last goodbye, he bounded off down the mountain trail, whistling and humming to himself with childish delight.

While she was alone Mipha stared off at the setting sun as it cast colors of bright pink and orange in the evening clouds. She wasn't looking forward to seeing Link leave at the end of summer. She had become quite fond of her new friend, and a long winter without him didn't sound very fun at all. But that was the way things were, and besides, he'd be back come the next summer and every summer after that a long while. She couldn't wait.

And yet there was one worry in her mind. Would he out grow her someday? Hylians had such a habit of growing up too fast…

* * *

Enter stage right: Zelda!

Although, we won't get to see things from her perspective for a little while longer. No, for now we will keep up with Mipha and Link for a bit till its time to move on to bigger things!

As always thank you all for the reviews, I hope things aren't going to slow in the story for your liking, I promise I will try to get to the meat of the story as fast as I can without sacrificing a proper introduction into the world. For stories, just like a good joke, the setup is the most important part for the payoff! Cheers to six chapters down in the book!


	7. Chapter 7

-Prelude III-

Over the vast eastern sea, in the land of Labyrnna there is a tale―a legend, I suppose―that speaks of a lone Knight in service to the King of Hyrule, their now distant sovereign. It was during the war, the the War of Kings as some called it, that the threads of this legend were woven into the vast tapestry of Time. Although the events of this legend are many years passed, the survivors of that war still remember it with immense detail, the images of the past forever carved into the back of their minds. This tale follows as such:

It was during the eighth winter of the war between Labrynna and Hyrule that the fighting came to the doorstep of the Black Tower, which was the epicenter of the Lynna City. Any one who knew anything in that distant land knew of the great Black Tower of old, whose very foundation was as engrained in their kingdom's past as the mountains were engrained in the bedrock. Some say that even a Hero of Old from the land of Hyrule walked those same steps eons ago as a savior of all Labrynna.

However, Hyrule did not come as a savior that day, nor was there a Hero to be spoken of.

There was, however, a great conqueror among them, a Knight with one solitary goal in mind: to make Labrynna bend the knee. This Knight was a feared leader in those parts of the world, as skilled in the art of the blade as any they had ever seen, and unequaled in the task of commanding an army. His conquest had brought him over the Sea of Storms, to the very shores of Labyrnna, through the valleys and over the mountains and through the streets, and for all his might there were few who could resist him for very long. All fell in time to that War Councilor of the King of Hyrule, and all learned to fear his name.

The Conqueror, they would call him. The Conqueror of Labrynna.

And so, when it came to the inevitable time for the Black Tower to fall at the masterful hands of the Conqueror, hope seemed as waning as the flame of a candle in the wind. But, among the last of Laybrnna's army there rose a few brave souls with the conviction to lead their people to victory, and with one last great hurrah a horde of four hundred men descended upon the small and distant encampment of this Knight of Hyrule in secret, bent on severing the head of the Hyrulean army at the neck.

They outnumbered their foe four to one, an assured victory if there ever was one.

But this Knight of Hyrule was a crafty one, for he had spies deep within the ranks of his enemies and heard of the coming attack, and before the axe head could fall on his own neck, he scattered his men among the mountain passes between them, hiding them among the rocks and arming them with bows and quivers full of arrows, and ordered them to wait till they could mark each man for the kill and remember his face.

When night descended upon them, the cries of battle began.

Labyrnna lost a great many men that day. They say the backs of those four hundred men were as riddled with arrows as a pin cushion is with pins, and when word of this great defeat came to the ears of the Black Tower, Labyrnna lost all hope and bent the knee to the Knight of Hyrule, Sir Peter Hamish, the Conqueror of Labyrnna.

* * *

Chapter Seven

A Little Lesson in Swordplay

I once heard a wise man say that adversity breeds advancement. In other words, it is to say that nothing is _truly_ learned without earning it first; a lesson without pain is no lesson remembered at all. I find the idea to hold merit in many ways, as many of the greatest lessons learned in life are through failure. However, I can say that while that ideology was ever present and important in the mind of Sir Hamish, his means of carrying it out was not always quite so… orthodox.

It was in the cold open field out back behind the Hamish estate that Link and his half-brother Byron trained everyday with their father from dawn till the ringing of the tenth bell, well after breakfast. Come rain or shine, that is where they toiled and sweated till their limbs were sore and tired, from the time that they were but children till now, when they were in their youthful adolescence. And today was shaping up to be just like any other, or at least it seemed like that at first until they began their daily sparring routines.

"I want you to hold nothing back today." That is all that Sir Hamish said in a voice that was neither soft nor hard. Link and Byron shared concerned glances with one another, but they did not question him. They learned not to question him when he gave a direct order, even when they were unsure as to what he meant. And so, taking stances opposite of one another, Link and his half-brother bowed and raised their practice swords, ready to begin the dance of blades.

"Begin!"

With a quick step to his right, Link jabbed at Byron's side, but it was swiftly met by a swipe that sent his blade rebounding awkwardly. Byron had the strength advantage on Link ever since he began his early teenage growth and it would be at least another two years till Link himself would catch up, but until then he was stuck with being several inches shorter and more than several pounds lighter than his older half-brother. But that was nothing new to him, he usually was smaller than his opponents.

Keeping that in mind, Link pressed the one advantage he still had: speed. What Byron could do with strength, Link could do in half the time, which meant that while his blade had been knocked away Link swiftly altered his grip and followed up his first failed jab with a block to his left, halting the incoming attack from his opponent. Their practice swords made a loud crack as they met midair.

From there it was an onslaught of power swings from Byron's arm which began every slowly whittling away at Link's stamina. Link dodged, blocked, parried, and jabbed. This was how the game always developed between them. Byron would swing and jab with enough force to break an arm, and Link would dance between them till he could find his opening. Unfortunately, today, those openings appeared to be fewer and further in-between.

Though the fight seemed liked it had taken and age to draw to an end, only mere seconds had passed before Link stumbled on an upturned rock and was swiftly knocked back with a boot landed squarely in his chest, sending his blade sprawling out of his grasp. With triumphant contemplation, Byron stood over him and offered a hand to help him stand.

"Good fight," Byron whispered, a simple and small but earnest smile on his lips. There never was any hardness between them, in fact Link considered Sir Hamish's son somewhat of a training companion through the years that they practiced together. A friend, even perhaps, if he was bold enough to note, but they kept it strictly between them. Link was still well aware of his place as a servant under a Knight's tutelage and had no intention of going above his station.

"Good fight," Link replied, and moved to take Byron's hand.

"Is the fight over?" Sir Hamish asked almost mockingly, though his tone was as even as ever. "I still see a little fight left in him, Byron."

"He's disarmed, father," Byron replied hesitantly. "I won this trade…"

"Have you?" Sir Hamish answered, a single eyebrow raising dissentingly. "I do not see a mark or scratch on him, have you truly one the fight? Do you think that on the battle field simply knocking your opponent on his back means you've won?"

"You want me to kill him?" Byron deadpanned, though he regretted it immediately when he saw the harsh look in his father's eyes. Sir Hamish was never fond of jokes. Nor sarcasm for that matter.

"I want you to teach him to be aware of his surroundings," Sir Hamish answered, maintaining that harsh stare. "Give him something to remember his mistake by. You two are old enough now to understand the lessons within every failure. Strike him and let him learn his lesson." Silence grew between them, but Byron did not move. He merely looked at his father perplexedly.

"Hit him," Sir Hamish ordered.

"Father, surely that's not necess―"

"Hit him!" he ordered. "Do not hold back." Byron hesitated, biting his lower lip as his eyes danced between his father and Link. Again, Sir Hamish ordered Byron to strike Link on the ground, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't until Byron was met with a disciplinary hand across his cheek that he obeyed, and swung his blade, catching Link on his left ear. The soft skin broke beneath the wooden blade, and a faint ringing sensation rattled through his head. Link cupped his ear with a yelp, a surge of burning pain coming in waves as he sucked in air through his teeth.

"Hold back again and I will equal your pain, boy," he said in Byron's ear. "Now up. Up! Again." Link crawled away as he began to stand, that ringing sensation still causing him to feel a little dizzy. It took him a moment to shake it off as he wiped the wetness away from his eyes. Link forced himself to ignore the pain. He wasn't about to cry. Crying was for children and was full of nonsense, he reminded himself.

"Begin!"

In a flurry Link and Byron were back at it, only this time there was a slight hesitation in Byron's every swing. They were slower than usual too, and far less impactful than before. Still, not wanting to receive another crack on the ear, Link pressed his advantage and began to cut quick diagonal slices through the air until he caught the hand of his opponent at the hilt, causing him to drop it. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hit him, boy," Sir Hamish said. "Teach him the price for his failure. He was holding back."

"But Sir," Link stammered, but fell mute when those indignant eyes fell upon him. The horror of his predicament weighed down on him like a load of bricks across his shoulders. This was an order he could not refuse. After all, he had been trained to follow Sir Hamish's every command. That was his responsibility as the family Ward. And yet, how backwards it seemed to the boy, that he was being ordered to harm one of the very persons he was sworn to protect. Where had he gone wrong, he wondered?

Pulling his arm, Link brought his blade back and swung, connecting the edge of his sword with the flesh between Byron's shoulder and elbow. Byron staggered backwards, rubbing his arm as he bit back a cry.

"Next time, finish what you have started," Sir Hamish warned in a low gravelly voice. "Make the lesson swift. Take every advantage and never hold back. It could mean the difference between life and death someday when you're out in the real world, boy. Remember that, and some day you'll thank me."

"Yes, Sir Hamish," Link replied hoarsely, bowing his head slightly. His ear still stung, but what blood was there was very little and already dried.

"Again."

Watching those two boys wail on one another was a difficult thing to see, I must admit, but without further complaint they followed their father's orders dutifully. Duel after duel they fought, the delicate scale they had balanced dipping from side to side without order or rhyme. For every victory, there was a sore loss, for every victor there was a loser. And yet by the end of those countless hours those boys spent striking each other down neither felt very much like a winner. Again, and again they fought, till they had bruises and welts from knee to shoulder, and only then did their father raise his hand and order them to stop.

"Do you know why I have made you do these things?" he asked of them. "You may think I find pleasure in this, but I do not. No, I do this because in life―in this kingdom of peace and prosperity―you will be surrounded by those who are to weak to stomach the reality of this world. You will be coddled and fed niceties and flatteries till you burst at the seams with uselessness. And that is when your enemies will strike you down, for while you were fattened with a sense of security, they laid awake at night sharpening their daggers and plotting your demise. But I will not allow you to entertain this weakness."

Sir Hamish paused, and sighed a deep breath as contemplative eyes passed between them. "Byron, as a Knight of this Kingdom it will be your duty to protect and serve its people to the last breath. Whether you serve in the Royal Guard as a protector of the King and Queen or take my place as War Councilor when I pass on, it will be on your shoulders to ensure that Hyrule does not grow weak in times of peace. There is no greater responsibility than that to a Knight of Hyrule. Hold fast to the lessons I bestow upon you, for they are the same lessons I endured in my many years of service to this kingdom in times of peace and war. Do these things and I will count you among the things I am proud of.

"And you, Link." Sir Hamish regarded him with eyes that were not a cold and stony as they usually were. "As the Ward Protector of my family, your one and only purpose will be to ensure the safety of my wife and children, should you choose to stay on the day of your coming into adulthood." Sir Hamish paused, as if he was pondering something rather profound, but stirred himself to continue. "Life has been unfair to you, do not allow it to disservice you any longer. Do not fall into its pitfalls and follies and grow weak in your conviction. These are the burdens you must carry silently and alone as a servant but carry them with fortitude and courage and you will be counted among the things I am proud of." And without another word, Sir Hamish turned and left, leaving his sons to wonder in silence, battered and bruised.

How I wish I could have seen what laid in Sir Hamish's heart that day. He never was a very demonstrative man, far from it really, but all the same I would have like to hear the thoughts that passed through his mind as he left with a face as unrevealing as a stone. Could he really be proud of the son he wanted, and the son he didn't?

* * *

The plot thickens... Our little Hero is growing up fast

Sorry if this chapter was a bit of a downer for you lovely people. If it was... well, I have bad and good news for you. The bad is, well, there's a lot worse up ahead. The good is that there's also a lot of good wholesomeness as well.

Anyways, since I'm posting this on the 21st of December, that means Christmas is right around the corner. So, it may or may not be a little while till the next chapter comes out. It just kinda depends on how things work out schedule wise, but stick with me and all will be A-okay I promise! But in case its a little while till I see you all, here's a Christmas list I made for you all, enjoy!

Things to look forwards too soon:

1) More Mipha, because she's too wholesome to not include  
2) Daruk is coming up soon too, because he's too wholesome to not include, but that's still a few chapters away so don't get too excited yet  
3) More development for Byron and his sister Arin, because they will play a part in this tale in small ways.  
4) A chapter coming soon coming from Zelda's side of the world, yay for development!

5) (although I'm not sure you will be looking forward to it) Another reason to dislike Lady Hamish, who will be getting some more character development alongside her kids, but again, that will be a little bit later.

As always, review and let me know what you personally think! Especially let me know what you think of Sir Hamish, I'm curious as to how you feel about him.


	8. Chapter 8

Quick note, if you would like to listen to the same song I listened too while writing this chapter to get me into the mood, I highly suggest you give a go.

You can find it on you tube, its from my Full Metal Alchemist: just search "Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood - Lapis Philosophorum Piano & Orchestra" should be the first video, by a channel called "The Synthetic Orchestra"

1) its amazing  
2) its big mood  
3) just enjoy

I would post an exact link to it, but this website doesn't allow you to display URLs -_-

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Chapter Eight

Long Live the Queen

Up and down the empty halls of Hyrule Castle the King walked. Up and down, and back and forth, and yet there didn't seem to be conscious thought in his pacing. It was as if his spirit had left his body and, in its absence, the empty vessel that was once his only anchor to the physical world paced those empty halls in pursuit of some meaning. Purpose, perhaps?

Yes purpose. Purpose was such a rare thing was hard to find in a time like this, when grief pained his heart like a dagger slipped through his ribs. How could he carry on? What was the point now that his one and only love had been ripped away from the world; away from him? Where was goddess sent providence in this? These were the questions that bore into him, and yet for all his wondering and worrying, he could not find the answer. And so, the mighty King of Hyrule paced back and forth, up and down, and to and fro, like a ghost haunting his own halls.

"Papa."

There was so much pain, and yet, that simple word spoken to him with the voice sweeter than honey brought his spirit colliding back with his body and he stirred as if he were awakening from a deep stupor. A small child stood at his feet, as delicate as a little flower in spring bloom and ever so beautiful. Zelda, his sweet little Silent Princess looked ever so much like her mother, even in her youth. The slanting moonlight cutting through the dark illuminated those precious emerald eyes of hers, eyes that were like glassy mirrors, shimmering with every blink.

"Papa," she repeated, a hitch in her meek voice. "Why are you crying?"

Crying? He was crying? King Bosphoramus Hyrule ran a finger over his cheek and felt a trail of wetness falling from his eye. He _was_ crying, he realized. It wasn't the sort of crying that made you sob and wail, he realized, but rather the soft sort of crying that would leave you a silent as the grave, unable to catch tear drop after tear drop that fell from cold and empty eyes.

"Oh, my sweet Zelda," he said in a low raspy voice, his throat feeling as dry as sand. Kneeling to look at her, the King whispered, "my sweet Zelda. Go back to bed, dear."

"But Papa, you're crying," she insisted, rubbing a thumb across his cheek, a sad look on her face. "What's wrong?"

"It's your mother," he answered, taking her head in his hands and kissing her brow. Even her hair was as soft and as golden as _hers._

"Is she still sick?"

"Sick? No… she isn't sick anymore."

"Oh, Papa," Zelda exclaimed, a sweet an innocent smile as radiant as the sun on her lips. "Isn't that something to be happy about? Why are you crying? Mama isn't going to hurt anymore, she'll be as right as rain… Papa?"

"She's dead, Zelda."

Zelda's smile sank away, and with every passing second the King's heart hurt even worse. This wasn't how things were supposed to be. He needed her, more than anything. Zelda needed her more than anything. The Kingdom needed her more that anything, and yet… she was gone. All he could do was hold his daughter against his chest and beg for the silent tears to stop. He had to remain strong for her sake, that was his duty. Crying was for children and was full of nonsense, he told himself, grasping for any sense of courage. He was a King. Duty came first, always.

"Zelda," he whispered against her head. "Your mother loved you dearly, but she has gone on to a better place. I don't know why, but that is the way things have to be, and its our duty as the rulers of this kingdom to press on. I can never promise that things will be easy, for they won't be, but I promise you that I will do everything I have within me to ensure that you and this kingdom survive forevermore. Promise me… promise me you won't ever lose hope, that you won't ever give up."

Zelda said nothing, but he knew she heard every word as her arms enclosed around his neck and her face buried deeper in the cavity of his chest, nodding slowly. So delicate, yet so strong was his little flower, he pondered. So strong, and yet deep in his mind there was an overwhelming fear. What would they do in the face of the Calamity? Who would train his only daughter in the art of sealing away the Darkness?

They were uncovering the relics of old, as that Sheikah fortune teller had advised, and yet he wondered, would it ever be enough? Without pilots to man what Divine Beasts they had found, and of course without the Legendary Hero chosen by the Sword of Evil's Bane, what chance did they stand? Ruin was spelled out before him in his mind every time he closed his eyes.

Gazing out through the foggy window, the King beheld the reaches of Castle Town, and tried to estimate the vast number of innocent souls under his protection. How could he ever keep them safe, he wondered? Rocking Zelda back and forth in his arms he wondered how he could ever keep her safe.

Many more questions brought vivid images of horror in his mind, and yet while he held his only daughter in his arms, he never lost hope entirely. How brave she was, he considered, that not a single tear or sob came from his little flower. So brave… perhaps it they would be alright, he thought. She was her mother's daughter after all, she was destined to succeed no matter the cost.

That alone brought a small comfort everlasting.

Even when the sun rose in the morning and the Queen's death was announced to the people, Zelda was the little pocket of warmth to him in his heart. Simply watching her carry herself with grace and strength in times like these helped ease the pain, if even a little. Perhaps it was because of how often they reminded her of her duty to the kingdom, or perhaps it was from some greater inner fortitude that Zelda could remain so strong. Either way, he silently thanked the goddess for bringing her into the world, for without her he was certain he would fade away like dust in the wind.

A solitary horn played a long droning melodic song from the ramparts of Hyrule Castle, an ancient tune passed down through the generations of the Royal Family. Legends said that the Hero's of old were also gifted with knowledge of its melody in times of great peril, and the King could not help but wonder if perhaps its notes could beckon to the Hero they desperately needed now.

He dismissed the thought gloomily, however, thinking it silly and overly grandiose.

Mustering his strength, the King stood from his chair overlooking the Royal Funeral procession and began the short climb up the stairs of the cathedral dais. Royal Guards lined the platform, bearing their finest suits of armor, embellished by the crests of their families' coat of arms and a long singular sash of black to signify mourning. Among their numbers was his old and trusted friend and war advisor, Sir Peter Hamish. He was glad to see that stoic face among the ranks of such exemplary men. A king needed fast friends in times of strain to speak reason and logic. Behind him stood two boys as well, holding themselves at well-disciplined attention. One was donned in the fine clothes of a Knight's son, destined to follow in his father's steps, and other bore the pendant of a Ward Protector on his collar. Both were as stone-faced and stoic as the Knight ahead of them.

So young to look as such, the King considered. But then again, in times like these perhaps it was better the young accepted the realities of the world sooner rather than later. Zelda certainly had. She walked closely behind him, silent and unaffecting.

Once standing on the pulpit of the cathedral, the King of Hyrule gazed out onto the crowds of his people lining the walls and pews. Handkerchiefs and tissues were in many hands, but others merely stood by with eyes glistening in the dim candlelight. From somber face to somber face the King's eyes swept across the room; many strangers, and many he recognized.

Chief Urbosa, whose bereft green eyes and olive skin stood out among the crowd, bowed her head in solidarity when his gaze passed over her. Daruk of Death Mountain, who was a rarity to see sad at all, was practically welling up tears despite his best attempt to hide it. Princess Mipha, a dear little soul, was saddened to the point of tears even though she had never even met the late Queen of Hyrule. Her father was not present, as he was unable to travel far from home due to his immense size, but Mipha had a score of escorts and an old advisor to watch over her, and stood in the Zora King's place.

There was Kaneli too, the Elder of Rito village. Beside him stood a short but fierce warrior of the sky, who's eyes did not show a hint of tears, but he did wear a somber face. Revali was his name, if the King remembered correctly, a promising future leader of his people once he came of age. Perhaps a little puffed up and cocky, but promising.

And of course, there was Impa, the Sheikah Elder, whose haunting red eyes were equal parts gentle and kind as they were resolved and enduring. Beside her stood delegates of her people, but no one else that could be seen unless you had a well-trained eye. Sheikah Shadow Warriors had a way of blending in with their surroundings that was quite remarkable.

The list went on, but the King turned his attention to the casket before him and cleared his throat to speak.

"People of Hyrule," he began, wetting his mouth as he did so. "It is on this day of great misfortune that I ask for tidings of good will and prayers of comfort, for today is a day that we all come to mourn the loss of our Queen. My heart, as I am sure your hearts are too, is racked with grief at her passing. But it is our duty as the proud people of this land to persevere on as we always have. There is no greater way to pay our beloved Queen the honor she so greatly deserved."

Sobs passed in waves among the people, but he continued.

"Through times of peace and through times of war, her generosity and grace were known well throughout Hyrule. And I will be the first to admit that in the task of diplomacy, she was second best to none. She was gentle, she was resolved, and most importantly she was just. Mourn, my Hyrule," he said, covering his heart. "Mourn and heal, for tomorrow marks a new and bright morning. Honor our beloved Queen, carry her generous spirit in your heart for all eternity. Let not her spirit wither and die away, my Hyrule. Carry it."

"As Hylia deems it," the congregation answered in unison, "long live the Queen. Long live the Queen."

* * *

That night, in the confines of her study, the young Princess Zelda buried her head in the crook of her arms as she wept bitterly. She couldn't even remember how long she had been there crying, but after holding back all day she simply couldn't withstand it any longer. Like a dam unleashing a river she cracked and fell apart in the solitude of her tower, where no one could hear her wail in agony.

She tried so hard to put on a brave face for her father, and yet he still carried on as if the spark of life had gone out in his soul. Was there anything she could do at all? How was she too fill her mother's shoes now that she was gone? Her teacher, her friend… how could she revive the spark of life in her father's heart when it was dying in her own?

And worse, who would instruct her to unlock the Sealing Power? Who would teach her to hold back the coming Calamity? The question haunted her well into her sleep, leaving her so perturbed and fitful in the night that should could not rest fully for more than an hour at a time.

Crawling onto her knees she prayed with her eyes clamped shut, begging Hylia to send a Hero. She pleaded for someone who could help her carry this insurmountable burden. Someone who knew the demons she faced, and teach her to conquer them. Someone who had toiled as she had toiled and came through the other side victorious.

She prayed for a Hero that could save her from her darkest fears, like from the Legends of Old, for she felt hopeless.

* * *

Poor Zelda :(

Sorry, once again, that this chapter is a downer, but it is necessary to the story. It plays a big part in Zelda's motives after all, and every hero needs motive!

I don't have much else to say, other than Merry Christmas for those of you who celebrate it! I look forward to hearing from each and everyone of you.

cheers,

-Bold


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

A New Adventurer

It was on the dawn of a bright summer morning that our little Hero waited patiently on the gravel driveway of his father's estate, dressed in attire fit for a long ride to Zora's Domain. Though, I suppose it would have been unfair to call him little anymore. Just being fresh from adolescence, Link had certainly grown a few inches over the years―though he was still markedly shorter than most―and training had seen him develop a lean figure. Height inevitably would come later, but from cap to boot, he had filled into his servant's tunic quite well, bearing the small golden pin of a Ward Protector insignia on his collar. Sir Hamish had suggested he start wearing it before he was deemed a tried and true Ward, in hopes that he would grow used to the responsibility it signified. It was little more than a statement of what was to be, not what was right then and there.

How Link himself felt on the matter I could not say, he had begun to take after his father's stoic nature, but regardless he wore the pin without complaint.

As it always was at the beginning of every summer, there was a hustle and bustle about the caravan of traveling wagons as servants tidied up bags and tied down crates in preparation for the slow climb up the mountain trail to the Domain. Although this time around there seemed to be a little more work than the footmen and bellboys could handle. The young Lady Arin would be accompanying them on this trip for the first time, which meant a whole other wagon had to be prepared to account for the extra luggage, and room had to be made in the back for her maidservant to sit and ride.

Arin was eager to get a move on with the ordeal as she squirmed and fidgeted, twisting her riding crop impatiently in her fingers and adjusting the hem of her jacket so that it would rest neatly over her equestrian pants. Nearly twelve years she had waited for her chance to see the world, and now that the day had come that her mother and father finally agreed to free her to it, she practically buzzed with excitement.

And Link was given the responsibility of seeing that she was kept safe and watched over continually.

"Will we be leaving soon?" Arin asked Link with a breathless enthusiasm. "Oh, please say yes, I am dying to see the world!"

"It will be soon, Lady Arin," Link answered evenly with a slight bob of the head. "You will have to forgive the servants, it is quite an arduous task loading up the wagons with enough provisions to last the summer."

"You needn't talk so proper to me, Link" she said with a light chuckle. Absentmindedly Arin swished her riding crop back and forth as if she were thinking of swordplay and ran a gloved hand over her horse's muzzle. "I know you and Byron like to play at being serious adults when my father is around, but it is such a bore. All day I go around curtsying and bowing like a princess. 'Oh, thank you, my lady, no thank you my lady,' and nonsense like that." Arin dipped and bowed as she carried on in a mockingly excessive posh manner. "'Mind your manners, Arin. Don't drink to fast, Arin. Ladies never run, Arin'― _blagh_! I can't stand it anymore. Misses Havisham would have me strung out by my toes if I dared to do anything more fun that knitting a sweater, and even that seems nearly to extreme for that old hag."

Putting closed fists on her hips, made a murmuring sound, very close to a frustrated grunt. "Every day it's the same thing I tell you, Link: study silly nonsensical things till I'm bored half to death, and then practice silly nonsensical things till I feel like I'm going to implode. I feel like a Redead, like from those silly childhood fairy tales. Do you know what that's like, Link?"

He merely shrugged his shoulders.

"You're even more withholding than Byron," she teased, crossing her arms. "C'mon, this will be my first time to really see the world, Link. Don't spoil the fun. If you're going to be following my every step like a shadow for the rest of the summer like father has ordered, then at the very least let's drop the odious proprieties… at least _try_ to be a little more fun than my brother."

"I heard that." Byron called at them from across the way as he coolly approached them with the reins of his horse in his hand. "And I happen to be the perfect amount of fun, dear sister. You on the other hand are just down right childish, getting in trouble and mischief all the time. Why do you think Misses Havisham is so hard on you? She leaves me be just fine."

"Because she's a witch, I tell you," Arin huffed emphatically. "Link, tell him how awful Misses Havisham is, you know as well as anyone how horrid she can be!"

Link awkwardly scratched the back of his head. Of course, he agreed with Arin. Misses Havisham detested him ever since the day he had arrived as a boy, but he didn't feel comfortable spouting that out into the open. Link had countless run ins with that spiteful governess; countless times she had accused him of getting into mischief or stealing things from her room, which of course was preposterous. The worst he had ever done to rile her anger was tear a hole in her favorite pair of stockings one day when he was helping dear Miss Ellie the maid with washing. Outside of that, he was as innocent as a lamb. But the governess hardly cared about innocence. She only cared about what pleased her or her lady, Lady Hamish.

And Lady Hamish liked him even less than Misses Havisham. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they colluded together on blaming Link for things he didn't do just to see to it he received a few welts on his rear from a disciplinary flogging. All the same, he kept his opinion on the matter quiet, and let Arin and her brother argue it out.

Soon enough, however, they received word that the wagons were ready, and they quickly mounted up and readied set out for the Domain. Link led his horse directly behind Arin and her brother's horses' and beside him rode Mister Telmar who was looking a little worse for wear. The years hadn't been particularly kind on his bones, you see, and horse riding always made his joints creak like a rusty door hinge in desperate need of oil. He never complained though, he kept on as loyal as always.

"Another summer in paradise, huh, Link?" he said with a warm smile. "I still remember the first time we took you to the Domain, your eyes lit up like a bonfire."

"I remember," Link answered, "though I don't think I remember quite as much as you do. I was rather young."

"Aye, you were lad, you were. So small to, you barely came up to my waist." Mister Telmar laughed from his belly. "All the same, I'm sure Princess Mipha is looking forward to seeing you. She is a kind spirit, so eager to help in any way she can―oh! How may we be of service, my lady?" Link turned in his saddle, surprised to find the Lady Hamish staring up at him with a stern, appraising glare.

"You keep a close eye on my Arin, you hear me boy?" There was not a touch of gentleness in her silvery voice.

"I will, my lady, you have my word."

"For better or for worse, my husband seems to trust you. _I,_ however, do not share that sentiment, but alas, he is insistent… If you know what's best for you, you won't betray that trust, do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, my lady. No harm will come to her."

"See to it." Lady Hamish turned to leave, but mid stride she halted as something came to mind. She spoke in a low voice. "And one last thing, mark it well, boy. Arin's maid will accompany her everywhere to ensure her… sense of respectability is never brought into question. She will do her part, and you must do yours. Remember that I will hear _all_ when you return."

"Yes, my lady." When she was gone Link and Mister Telmar exchanged meaningful glances but kept quiet about the matter. It was no news to them that Lady Hamish didn't trust him. But, with that done and away with, the caravan was set to begin their trek to the Domain, and so with a loud hurrah from the leadman, the wagons and horses stirred to action and began to the slow procession.

* * *

Princess Mipha lazily twirled a finger in the flowing river as she rested on the shoreside, bored beyond belief. After she had expended so much time and effort into convincing her father to give her the day off so that she could wait by the Zorana River for Link's arrival, she was sorely disappointed that after several hours, they had yet to arrive. And on top of sheer boredom, Mipha felt a pang of guilt for dragging Bazz and Seggin along with her.

Her father insisted that she should have escorts with her, and who better than their Captain of the Guard and his trusted son to watch over her while she waited… doing absolutely nothing? Seggin put a got face on about it, but he was clearly feeling underused and bored, and little Bazz, who was excited to see Link in own right, had given up an activity packed day for her sake.

"I'm sorry," she said bashfully for what must have been the tenth time since that morning.

"Nonsense, Princess," Seggin replied, for the tenth time, although it was sincere. "We're honored to keep the King's daughter safe and sound in any form. Isn't that right, Bazz?" Mipha appreciated his sentimentality, but that gurgling sense of guilt still riled in her chest.

"We're happy to help you, Princess, even if things are a little boring―ow!" Bazz apologetically rubbed the little patch of skin on his face where his father had flicked a finger to warn him to mind his manners when speaking to the princess. "I'm excited to see Link too," he continued, honestly. "And I'm sure he'll be excited to hear about how well the Big Bad Bazz Brigade has been doing since he left last winter." That was the name of the club Bazz had formed with Link in their youths, of which Bazz was the leader of, naturally. He always looked up to his Hylian friend and mentor, though. Link had taught him everything he knew about swordfighting.

"Still, I hate having you two just sitting about with nothing interesting to do," Mipha sighed. "Perhaps we should just go back to the Domain and wait there. I'm sure it will be a few hours more till―" Mipha was cut off by Bazz when he began pointing wildly westward, where the opening of the mountain trail and the Zorana River met. Cresting just over the hill, a tall wagon came rolling through, and behind that a troupe of Hylians on horseback, the tail of the caravan at their backs. She spotted Link's golden hair instantly and squirmed with excitement.

"Patience is a virtue indeed," Seggin remarked with a light chuckle. "Come along, Princess, lets go up and meet them." Diving fully into the water, the trio of Zora swam further down the river until they were within shouting distance of the caravan and called to them.

"We're so glad you are back," Mipha said warmly to the group as she climbed ashore, pining the butt of her trident in the soft soil. Sir Hamish greeted her with his usual polite but even tone, and Byron was much of the same, although she did not recognize the young woman with them. She assumed it was Arin, Sir Hamish's daughter, given her fine riding clothes and pretty hazelnut hair. But they only distracted a portion of her attention. It was with Link that her eyes locked and lingered on the longest.

As always, he looked so much older than the year before; his hair was longer, his jaw more ridged and defined, and his shoulders seemed wider and more defined as well. But for all that, there was one thing that never changed. His deep blue eyes. Something coiled up in her chest every time he considered her with those keen and wide eyes, a sensation that had developed sometime over his last few visits. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why, but when he looked at her, she felt flush with nervousness.

"Hello, Link." It was a quiet hello, all she could manage before that nervousness seized her tongue up, but he smiled that warm and familiar smile of his and offered the same greeting, bowing his head dutifully. It made the feeling in her chest coil tighter for some reason, but she tried her best to ignore it. Why should she feel nervous about seeing Link, she wondered? He was her best friend, after all.

A silly and innocent girl she was, that Princess of the Zora.

Regardless, nervousness or not, Mipha persevered to welcome her father's guests, and urged them to press on to the Domain with as much speed as safety could allow and sank back into the river, reveling in the coolness against her flush cheeks. She felt silly feeling this way, but for the life of her she couldn't puzzle out why. Perhaps it was just something she ate that morning, she pondered. Muzu always said that a mingy carp or bass that was undercooked could turn the stomach in weird and unexpected ways, and make you feel all funny. Yes, she thought, surely that was it. Just a bit of bad fish.

Pressing it from her mind, Mipha would occasionally embark on land to check in on the Hylian caravan's progress, and sometimes for a while she walked beside the horses so that she could speak with Sir Hamish, met the Lady Arin, and ultimately talk with Link.

"What's that pin on your collar?" she asked when they had a moment alone.

"Sir Hamish gave it to me, its an insignia marking me as a Ward Protector," he answered squarely. Link was starting to talk more and more like Sir Hamish, she noted, with that same forward but even temperedness. And for that matter, his nose and eyebrows were looking strikingly similar too the Knight of Crenel, she thought. In fact, if she didn't know any better, Mipha would have thought that they were father and son.

The truth of that matter was unbeknownst to her.

"So, its official then? You are now a Ward?"

"Not quite yet, Princess," he replied. "That will have to wait until I turn eighteen… adulthood."

"I see. Well, I am more than confident you will do just that. You are so dedicated to Sir Hamish and his family. You will do well."

"I'd say he's a little too dedicated," Arin remarked with a smirk, pulling back her reins so that her horse would fall in line with them. "Father has set him on me as an escort for the summer, and he seems quite dedicated to preventing me from having very much fun." There was a flash of humor in her smile.

"Link, opposed to fun?" Mipha laughed. "I never would have thought it. Have you grown old and boring in your time away, Mister Link? No, I simply don't believe it. We have all sorts of fun in Zora's Domain every summer, Link is rather reckless you know. In fact, he goes cliff diving regularly from the waterfalls here."

"Cliff diving," Arin gasped. "That sounds wonderfully adventurous! Could I give it an honest try―"

"I certainly can't allow that, Lady Arin," Link interrupted with a firmness that was unlike him in Mipha's experience. "It's far too dangerous."

"Clearly its not, since you do it regularly," Arin rebutted, but Link's face remained as hard set as a stone. "Can we at least go see the waterfalls? Don't be such a granny, Link." Link opened his mouth to argue, but Mipha jumped ahead with a sly smile.

"Of course you can! I will take you there personally later in the evening. Its such a lovely sight up there, you can see the whole Domain."

"That would be splendid, Princess Mipha," Arin said with a beaming smile that turned roguish when she glanced at Link. "Don't worry Link, it will be perfectly safe, no need to get yourself worked up with worry." Link worked his jaw back and forth in a grating manner as he thought on the matter silently, but after a time he finally relaxed and acquiesced.

"I suppose a little fun wouldn't hurt," he said under his breath.

"Then its settled!" Mipha smiled ear to ear. _There_ was the old Link she knew. "I look forward to showing you the beauty of our home!"

* * *

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! I'm glad to be back and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.

Big things are coming our Hero's way, don't you worry!

As always, please review and let me know what you think. Also, let me know what you think of Arin, please! I would love to know how you feel about every character I introduce.

Ciao,

-Bold


	10. Chapter 10

-Prelude IV-

In a vision of the past I was like the wind, blowing over ocean waves, the taste of salt water pungent on my tongue. Through the raging waves and crashes of the trepid waters I sped through the air from the east till I was broken against the rocks of the shore, but I did not stop there. No, for there was a little village before me, whose lights waxed and waned with each passing breath of the sea, and by then it was my turn to pass through the alleyways and streets of the little village of Hateno. A cold front had come with the winds, only adding to the bitter bite of winter that hurried the inhabitants of Hateno along their ways, clutching at scarfs and coats to shut out the wind.

Snow came too, though it was a hard and icy snow, there was certainly nothing pleasant about it, but that was on the forefront of my mind for but a moment. In the blink of an eye I moved on through the streets of Hateno until I came upon the open door of a small village inn and pressed in with a gale. Tablecloths flapped, and candles flickered till the door was closed, but none paid much mind. They were to busy drinking, laughing, and eating their fill to notice a simple thing like wind. Especially when they sat in the warmth of a large fireplace.

Which was exactly where I saw a woman of a familiar character. Her hair was a little thinner than I remembered, sadly, but it was just as soft and richly colored as before; a light almost silvery blonde with a hint of gold. She was still beautiful too, that Helen of Hateno, but remarkably worn out it seemed, and her eyes, for all their prettiness, were discontent and tired. She was arguing with a tall fellow, a brutish man with shoulders as broad as an ox and a face as mean as a bull, but they spoke in hushed tones.

"This was not the price we agreed to," Helen said with a huff, rubbing the heel of her shoe on the grainy floor. "If you expect the service you asked for, I expect the proper payment. Now unless you have something to offer I will be on my way―"

"Curse it all, woman," the bullish man spat, digging into his coat pocket, producing a small leather pouch, a knotting glare developing on that bullish face of his. "Here's your damn money, you rupee pinching wench. Go on up with you, I'm getting a drink. Go on!" As testament to his frustration he shoved the woman up the inn stairs, grumbling about this and that.

"You would do well to mind your manners," Helen barked. It was clearly not her first rough customer.

"And you would do well to do as your told," the bullish man barked back, sauntering over to the bar to down what must have been his eighth drink already. "Ungrateful wench," he mumbled.

Helen ignored that last part as she stomped her way up the stairs, grumbling to herself as she did so. "One more day," she said, gritting her teeth. "One more day of this and I will… I _will,_ have my home back." Helen paused at the top of the stairs, a rush of emotion bearing down on her heart. Would this really be her last day of this misery, she thought? After so many years could she really settle her debts and buy back her home? So many years she had spent in service to the whims and fancies of these… pigs, saving up every single ounce she could. Could it really be nearing the end?

It had to be. She couldn't take it anymore. The light of her world had been sent away years ago. This had to be her new beginning, her new hope. Even if that hope was but a failing candle light in a dark room, it was the only light she had left; home. She yearned for it, and it yearned for her. She had to take hold of it, feel its warmth, even if for a little while.

"Even for a little while," she whispered to herself hoarsely, leaning against the wall for support. A fit of coughs overtook her then, and she covered her mouth to catch the drop of blood that came with it, but she wasn't alarmed by it. It was nothing new, just a winter-brought sickness. _Even for a little while._ That is all she could think. It was the last of her hope. Even as she doubled over racked with coughs, it was all that she could think of.

* * *

Chapter Ten

A Change of Course

"Pst, Link. C'mon."

Link stirred from what seemed to be deep thought, suddenly aware of the Zora King's slowly emptying courtroom. He easily grew bored during those long sessions of formality between his father and the government of Zora's Domain, but as the future Ward Protector of the Hamish family he was required to attend and oversee security. Of course, in such a secluded and safe area, his presence was little more than a conventional appearance. Seggin, the Captain of the Guard, did all the real heavy lifting.

"Already, my lady?" he asked. Arin's eyebrow peaked impishly.

"Mipha already slipped by, she says we better hurry before we're locked in for the night with entertaining King Dorephan."

"Surely there is a better time for this," Link tried to argue quietly but Arin kept insisting he follow, pressing a silent finger to her lips to shush him. So, without further complaint he worked his way through the crowd of Zora courtiers that were exiting the room with keen thoughts of a hearty dinner waiting for them at the banquet hall. That was always the tradition of the first day of summer, the Hylians would arrive, they would hold a session to discuss relational politics, and then feast to their hearts content as a celebration of Zora Hylian unity.

"Lady Arin, I really do think you should consider holding off this little adventure till tomorrow, your father will be expecting you and your brother to be at the banquet."

"Mipha promised me you were more adventurous than this, Link," Arin pointed out jestingly, but kept on walking with a purposeful gait. "Father won't mind―or he'll get over it I'm sure. Besides, I've been dying to see the view ever since we arrived, Link. Oh, it's so beautiful here compared to our little swampy home in Lanayru. Yes, I simply can't wait. And I've managed to ditch my maid just in time too, come on this is the perfect opportunity!"

Link said nothing in reply, not even a grunt of disapproval, but when her back was facing him, he wore a sour almost indignant look that certainly didn't go away easily.

Pressing on, Link and Arin met up with Mipha at the south bridge that led to the Reservoir Lake entry stairs and together they climbed up to the cascading waterfalls that overlooked the Domain. All the while Arin skipped about excitedly, often pausing on their climb to get a look at the world below, airlessly gasping at the view. She admired the green grass, the siren songs of cranes flying overhead, and the gentle breeze sifting through the tall pine trees, all with a look of wonder fitting of a child on their first snow day. When they reached the lake, Mipha took the opportunity to wet her gills and dove in, sighing with great relief. She was quite graceful in the water, that Princess of the Zora, dashing to and fro, her bright red scales catching and refracting the dim light of the setting sun, making her seem to glow with a radiant beauty.

Our Hero seemed almost entranced for a moment, watching the way the princess effortlessly danced in the clear waters, but he stirred himself with a shake and sat down on the gravel shore.

"Its beautiful up here, Mipha," Arin sighed, clasping her hands against her breasts as she looked out on the blue ridged mountains and the monolithic pillars of the Domain. It truly was a sight to behold. "I wish I could see this view every day."

"That can be arranged," Mipha laughed. "Link and I used to come here every day after training to cool of and relax. I taught him how to swim in this pool. He was quite horrible you know?"

"Horrible you say? So there _is_ a skill Mister Link wasn't immediately good at, huh?" Arin jabbed at him with a roguish grin. Link refrained from commenting on it, but he did smile infinitesimally while scratching his nape. "That's really a surprise, father always said he had a knack for learning things quickly. How long did it take to teach him?"

"Nearly two summers," Mipha answered amusedly, splashing water at his booted feet. "But he's quite the natural now. I'd say that if he grew fins, he would be as fine a swimmer as any Zora."

"I'm really only good at diving," Link said with a shrug. Kicking his boots off, he inched his feet in the water, and sighed as the cold washed over his toes. "Anything other than that… is just the Princess being too kind."

"Are you calling me a liar Mister Link?" Mipha protested, rising from the water with her arms crossed defiantly. She tried to look tough, but underneath the show of bravado she was holding back a timid smirk. "Talk like that and you'll need to prove me wrong. Come along, Mister Link! Hop in and prove us wrong."

"Its really not necessary―"

He never got a chance to finish that sentence before he was doused in a wave of water as someone jumped into the river with a loud cheer of, 'CANNON BALL!' Link shook the water out of his hair before he realized what had happened. While they were talking it seemed that the Lady Arin had kicked off her boots and jacket and jumped in wearing little more than a thin blouse and her riding pants, her long hair let loose to fly freely.

Shock turned to laughter, and then just as quickly into horror when he realized the implications of such action.

"You're going to get us both in trouble, Lady Arin," Link chided, stomping into the lake up to his knees, ready to grab Arin by the arm to drag her back out. "Your father will wring my neck till death if he hears about this. It's not proper for a Lady to swim, much less so wearing _that!_ "

"I'll be dried off in no time, Link," Arin insisted as she lackadaisically floated on her back, effortlessly treading water with slow kicks. "Really, are you going to be such a bore? Is it a crime against Hyrule to go swimming? No? Good! Then come on, father won't know a thing. Join us."

"I―join you? But―"

"Link, what's gotten into you?" Mipha asked sheepishly, a growing concern in her eyes. "You never used to get this worked up over a little fun."

"He's just growing up, Mipha," Arin explained idly, not a care in the world as she backpaddled in circles. "Men gets so boring when they grow up, no room for adventure or any kind of fun. Byron is the same way now, as you can tell by his absence. Link, do us a favor and ease up, we're already here and soaking wet. You might as well have some fun."

Standing up to his knees in water, Link silently mulled it over in his head, his thoughts as readable as a stone buried on a hill, and stayed like that for a number of minutes until at last he made up his mind and peeled off his over tunic and tossed it ashore.

"Spare a prayer for me when your father strangles me tonight, Lady Arin?" I couldn't say at to whether or not that was a joke.

"It won't be necessary," Arin snickered, "but if it makes you feel better, I will pray as devoutly as the Princess of Hyrule till Hylia herself comes down from the heavens to seal my lips shut with irritation." With that said, Link dove head first into the water. The tight muscles in his face and shoulders visibly loosened and a smile crept across his lips. Mipha giggled giddily at the sight, and swam beside him, relishing in the nostalgic emotions of childhood being reborn anew.

This was how things were supposed to be, she thought contentedly.

For an hour they swam and splashed around in that little lake above the falls, and with each passing minute Link began to fall back into old habits from childhood; laughing, playing, and adventuring. Arin was a remarkable addition to that too, imputing quite the respectable amount of playfulness as she pounced on Link's back and shoved his head underwater, laughing like a maniacal madwoman. She was quickly overthrown though, when Link gripped her by the ankles and flipped her end over head. Arin came up coughing and laughing, hands raised high as she surrendered the fight as quickly as it had started.

"I'm glad I'm not Byron," she wheezed, wading out to the rocky waterfall outcrop, pulling her wet hair behind her ears to get it out of her eyes. "I'd hate fighting you every day, you nasty Bokoblin! Mipha, you're much better at this fighting stuff than I am, finish him for me, will you?"

"That's not a very fair fight," Link argued as he joined Arin on the rocks. "She can practically beat me on dry land, how could I hope to win in her territory?"

"I'm afraid he has a point, Arin," Mipha agreed slyly. "Hylians just weren't made to master aquatic combat, though they do an admirable job, I must say. Especially Link." Mipha's cheeks grew warm when Link silently looked at her appraisingly, clearly pleased with the compliment, though she could not say why. It only lasted a moment, however. "Oh! Do be careful up their Arin, it's a long fall to the bottom."

"Is this where you like to jump off, Link?" Arin asked.

"Not usually," he answered, leaning over the edge fearlessly. "There are to many hidden rocks beneath the haze, far too dangerous for any one, and the currents there are too strong for even most Zora to swim. I usually jump a little further from the east bank, over there." He pointed to a precipice a few hundred yards to their right. "It's deeper on that end, more than enough to account for the long fall, and the currents are gentle."

"I'd like to try someday―oh hush, Link! I already know what you're going to say, you old geezer. 'Oh, its far to dangerous for a lady, Arin, blah blah. You'll get hurt, Arin.' And don't look at me like that either!" She stabbed his chest with a slender finger. "All I said is that I would _like_ to try is some day."

"Just as long as you don't―"

"What is the meaning of this!?" A deep voice boomed across the lake and in an instant Link and Arin jumped in place, far familiar with the bearer of that harsh tone. Sir Hamish stood on the water's edge, arms crossed and a dangerous look in his eyes that warranted no excuses, argument. All he had to do was point to the ground with one finger to make Arin tuck tail and slink away shamefacedly. Mipha was quite certain she was going to burst into tears on the spot. Not that she could blame her. Sir Hamish was possibly the most intimidating Hylian she had ever met.

Link made little time hesitating to followed right behind his half-sister, however in the blink of an eye, something happened that would alter the course his life would take… all in an instant.

The rocks that formed that outlook were quite slick, naturally with all the water running about, and in his first step to jump back into the water to return to shore, Link put his foot down on questionable shale that moved under his weight, causing him to lose his footing. Falling limp as his head cracked against the sharp rocks, his body was rushed taken away by the current and over the falls he went, unconscious.

The air in Mipha's lungs seemed to vanish as she watched in captive, horror-stricken shock as Link vanished. She tried to scream his name, but nothing came out, and by the time her muscles seemed capable of moving she rushed forward to the edge.

But she couldn't make herself jump. She was still deathly afraid of heights. "Link!" she cried, gripping on to the edge with terror as everything in her mind told her to jump, but every muscle holding her back. She simply couldn't. She froze, knowing that the odds of Link surviving that fall to the rocks below unconscious was slim to none, at it tore her heart in two.

Hope was not completely lost, however, for from her peripheral vision she saw a figure clad in a gray tunic and overcloak dive over the edge as gracefully as a bird in flight, vanishing into the cloud of mist nearly eighty feet below. It wasn't until Mipha heard Arin scream, 'father!' that she realized who had gone in to rescue him.

Sir Hamish.

Mustering her courage, Mipha swam back to the shore and ran down the mountain as fast as her legs could carry her, a painfully, dreadful beating in her chest as the surreal reality of what was happening struck her like a blow across the head. Link couldn't die, he simply couldn't, nor Sir Hamish. They were her friends, her guests. It was her responsibility as the Princess of the Zora, as a Hylia fearing woman to ensure their safety. She could never deal with the guilt if anything happened to them.

She had to get to the bottom as fast as possible.

Running turned to stumbling and before long she was practically rolling down the hills, catching rocks and branches as she did, but she ignored the pain as she kept on running. Her arms and legs were riddled with cuts and bruises, and her ornate jewelry had been badly damaged, but she kept running until she at last reached the broiling pool of the waterfall.

And there she saw them.

Sir Hamish had the unconscious Link by the collar as he strained to pull both Link and himself out of the deadly currents. Blood gushed from his forehead where he had been struck, and given the dangerous dazed look in his eyes, he wasn't faring well at all. Tugging and pulling, Sir Hamish gave one last shove, leaving Link sagging limply over an upturned log pinned between two boulders before slipping under the water, where he was pulled to his inevitable demise.

"Arin, get help!" Mipha screamed as loud as she could and prayed that Arin had heard her before diving into the pool and swam over to Link. Being within in arms reach, she could sense the flickering lifeforce he gave off, but it was waning fast. His hole head was covered in blood, but she couldn't worry about that now. He was alive, that's all that mattered.

Mipha rushed back into the water, where the current grew stronger. She never was a particularly strong Zora, given her short and thin frame, but she kicked and fought the current as hard as she could as she searched desperately for Sir Hamish. Prayer after prayer, Mipha searched and searched, but by the time she found him it was too late… she barely managed to even gather the strength to resurface, let alone bring his body up with her.

She was too late. But not too late to save Link. She couldn't bear losing him.

By the time Mipha made it back to where Link lay unconscious, his skin had began growing pale and his lifeforce was little more than a candleflame in the dark. "I won't let you die," she cried, summoning every ounce of her strength to call forth the healing power swarming like a storm inside her core. "Hold on, Link! Keep fighting!" Bright light blinded her as she pressed her palm against the mangled mess that was his head, and as tears streamed down her cheeks, Mipha healed him till life jolted back into his wide and fearful blue eyes.

* * *

I told you big things were coming Link's way...

Although, I never specified that they would be good things.

Im sorry.

And not sorry. I promise, its all a part of the bigger picture.

-Bold


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Of Partings and Beginnings

There was a gentle breeze that blew through the grassy knolls of the Lanayru wetlands, stirring the tall grass till it made that familiar peaceful airy sound that only nature could make. It was beautiful and soothing by all accounts, though I fear it was not nearly beautiful or soothing enough to distract the small gathering of Hylians atop Crenel Hill, where the north bank overlooked the land.

A large mound was there, a bump in the earth where fresh soil had just been shoveled in by two servants. With their works done they wiped the sweat off their brows and paid their last respects to their late master, the Knight of Fort Crenel, Sir Peter Hamish. It was a silent offering, little more than a prayer and a solemn bow, but there was an honest sincerity to it that spoke of true remorse. He was a good man in truth. There were but a few flaws that could be counted among his actions, they all agreed on that, but at the end of the day he was honest, fair, and a courageous servant of Hyrule and its King. As fair and courageous as any Knight could be.

Plain with words he was too, that Knight of Crenel, direct and uncompromising to a fault. There was not a bone within him that spoke life into false flatteries and manipulative misconceptions.

But no more. Today marked the third day since his death, and all his family and dedicated servants were gathered in silence as they mourned, finally putting his drowned body to rest. Mister Telmar came and passed, kneeling at his lord's final resting place to whisper promises to keep his family well looked after. Lady Arin and her brother Byron came in pair, leaving a bundle of delicate wild flowers tied together by a single dark ribbon in their passing. Maids, footmen, grooms, soldiers. All came and went, till at last our little Hero approached, face awash with the strain of immense pain and sorrow of his guilt, though he hardened it as best he could.

He limped slightly as he dropped to one knee; Mipha had done a tremendous job healing his fatal wounds, but it was not enough to fully heal all his aches and scaring tissue. His hair was pulled back in a tight tie to hide the gnawing scar left on the back of his head. Silently he prayed in a voice that the breeze would not carry, a whisper of a whisper, and gently pressed a small golden collar-pin into the loose soil. It was a simple little thing, a small insignia depicting a bird with outstretched wings with a sword clutched in its talons, but its meaning bore great weight. A weight I fear he could no longer bear to carry, and so he left it there at the grave of his father.

Standing, Link turned away to face a bereft mourner, the widow of Fort Crenel. Lady Hamish.

Her eyes were red and swollen with tears, but her crying had ceased long ago. Her once full lips thinned as she worked her jaw with great duress. Her hands clutched the skirt of her dress till her knuckles turned a stark white, and her eyes, for all their agitation, tracked on our little Hero like a hawk would track a field mouse. Link did not hide away that gaze, however. He pressed forward with his eyes drawn low until he stood before her and dropped to his knees, an abject sign of humility.

"I do not ask for forgiveness," he said hoarsely, struggling keep his voice unwavering. "It is because of me this has come to pass. I have brought dishonor and great pain on the Hamish name, failing my one and only duty, and that is unforgivable."

Bitterness turned Lady Hamish's face a sour as curd and without restraint she brought her hand against his face, sparing no muscle as she struck his cheek over and over. "He is dead because of you," she seethed, eyes glistening with pain. "Why? Answer me! Why would he die to save you?"

"I don't know, my Lady," he answered firmly, accepting each blow across the cheek without offense.

"Why?" She struck him, tears pooling in her eyes. "Why?" Again."You vile spawn of a whore! You must know? Why would he die to save you?" She brought her hand back to strike him again, but Mister Telmar had restrained her wrist, pulling her back as she writhed and screamed with anguish.

"It's no use, my Lady," Telmar shouted solicitously, gripping her by the waist, bidding her to calm down. "Do not dishonor your husband this day… mourn, my Lady, mourn for him, please." Lady Hamish tremored in Mister Telmar's arms as silent sobs began to take over her body, and the last of her strength gave out. She sank to the ground, rocking back and forth, overcome with grief.

"It would be best if you leave for a moment, Link," Mister Telmar whispered, tugging at his mustache anxiously. His concern was torn between Link and Lady Hamish, Telmar wanted nothing more than to resolve the issue, but duty demanded he attend to the mourning wife of his master. Duty was all one had in these times of great pain.

Without another word Link bowed his head one last time, retraining his expression to stoniness, and left.

For the rest of that day Link could not be found among the servant's halls nor any quarters. His chair at the dinner table remained vacant when supper came, and no one could put out which direction he had gone. For hours and hours Mister Telmar paced back and forth in the servant's quarters, tugging and tugging at his mustache with worry. Where could he have gone, he wondered? He would be back, right? Surely, he thought, Link just needed a moment to gather himself. He couldn't blame the poor lad. He could hardly handle the news himself, but…

But once again duty called to him, and he answered the summons of the Lady Hamish late in the night when the moon had risen well overhead. He entered her study with slow and contemplative movements, bearing a tray of fresh hot tea made by one of the maidservants; raspberry tea with a pinch of sugar, that was how Lady Hamish always liked it. It was a kind gesture, one that his ladyship had not requested, but when Telmar offered it, she took it with solemn gratitude.

She had calmed down now, having given herself ample time to gather herself in her study, though her eyes were still red and distantly melancholy. Her gown, which had yet to be changed and clean, and her hair was in a disarray, but she was calm and present.

"Is there anything I can do for you, my Lady?" Telmar asked softly, neatly arranging the tea tray on the side table. It was so dark in the room, he realized, and moved to light another lamp.

"Don't." That was all she said, and Telmar halted, matchstick burning in his hand.

"This darkness isn't good for your eyes, my Lady," he explained. "You'll strain them." She didn't reply, but Mister Telmar obliged, and blew out the match. "Would you like a hot bath prepared for you, my Lady? You look exhausted, and the warm water would be good for your health."

"Later, Telmar," she answered, still gazing off into nowhere.

"Food, perhaps?"

"Do you know how old I was when I met Sir Hamish?" Lady Hamish asked abruptly.

"Seventeen, if I recall, my Lady."

"Seventeen," she conceded monotonal. "I was just a silly girl then, foolish and naive to the world… but when I met Sir Hamish, I thought that I could play at being a grown up." She shifted slightly in the sofa that practically gobbled her up, slouching in a way that was considered very unproper for a lady, but Mister Telmar was not one to judge. "He was such a dashing young man, so fervent and. 'The youngest and bravest Knight of the Royal Guard,' people used to call him.

"I looked up to him… praised him. He was my hero. I suppose it was no surprise when I grew to be infatuated with him. I begged my poor father to offer my hand to him. Begged and begged till he finally agreed, and when he did… Well, why he ever agreed to marry a simple lesser lady as myself, I could never say, but I was too madly in love to every complain." Her breath hitched. "Why me when practically every lady of greater status and beauty threw themselves at him?"

"He married you because he loved you," Mister Telmar said quietly, crouching at her side comfortingly. "You of all people would know he was never a very forthcoming man, but in all my years of being in service to him, he spoke of no other with such deep affection and love as he did with you and your children, my lady."

"And yet," she sighed, her lip tremoring. "And yet I wasn't enough."

"Don't say that, my Lady―"

"Three years he was away at war. Three years I waited, lying awake alone at night worried half to death for his safety, and yet… when he returned, I wasn't enough to satisfy him. He'd rather have had some village woman than me? And then this?" Tears began trailing down her cheeks. "The son of that _woman_ and _my_ husband is given shelter under _our_ roof, given food, shelter, education. And then his father― _my husband―_ sacrifices himself to save the wretched thing?"

"My Lady, please, you must understand it was an accident," Telmar pleaded, grabbing her hand. "Do not take it out on the boy, he had no control over his circumstances."

"An accident, Telmar?" she barked. "Had that boy ensured that Arin would have behave like I told him to they never would have been at that waterfall in the first place! Had that _boy_ not been an utter fool he would have not slipped and fallen in!" She stood over Telmar, her face growing red with anger and hatred. "Had _my husband_ not loved some bastard child of a village whore more than he loved me and his own children he would have never jumped off a damn waterfall and gotten himself killed! The fall might have been and accident, Mister Telmar, but it was no accident that Peter jumped!"

When the weight of her words finally hit her, Lady Hamish slumped back into her chair and covered her face as she sobbed bitterly. Mister Telmar was too shocked to utter a word.

"He would still be alive right now if that _boy_ had never been born," she continued airlessly, clutching herself as if in pain. "Peter would still be alive if he had truly loved me… if he never had another son. And yet, here he is. I can't even look at the boy's face without seeing his father in him. I can't do it, Telmar. I simply can't. The pain is too much, you must send him away."

"Send him away, my Lady?" Telmar gaped in horror. "We can't, he's still so young, and the law―"

"The law saw my husband in debt to the boy," Lady Hamish said. "But not me. I am not slave to a crime I did not commit. I have no debt to settle. Send him away, Telmar! That is an order!"

"Can we not discuss this when you have mourned, my Lady? Give your mind time to heal, please? Link is a good lad, so loyal and stricken with guilt. I beg of you, my Lady, he will serve this family as loyally as ever, do not send him away!"

"That was an order, Telmar," Lady Hamish said harshly. "Follow it unless you want to join the boy in leaving."

Her tone warranted no argument, no matter how much Mister Telmar wanted to. And so, rising slowly, he bowed and sadly said, "it will be done, my Lady."

It was a long walk back through the servant's quarters, one that he was wandering aimlessly, and with each step Mister Telmar felt his feet growing heavier and heavier. How could he bring himself to send Link away? He had become so fond of the boy. He watched him learn and grow, he played a part in raising him, teaching him how to serve with loyalty and respectability. He laughed with the boy, brought him comfort when he was sad, built him up when he was broken… he loved him like a son, and yet he had to send him away.

The thought tore at his heart, and with each step it only hurt worse.

When he passed Link's room, he heard a faint rustling noise inside. Pausing only for a moment to gather himself, he knocked twice, and entered. Link was there standing over his dresser, donned in a tunic fit for hard traveling, stuffing what few possessions he had into a small leather bag. A small quiver hung at his waist too and leaning against the wall was an unstrung longbow wrapped up between a bedroll wound tightly. He did not turn when he heard Telmar enter.

"I'm sorry, Mister Telmar." Is all he said.

"I understand, Link," he replied, choking back a surge of emotion. "How I wish I was not so."

"You're not here to try to tell me to stay?" Link paused for once, curiously.

"I wish I was," Telmar answered somberly, stepping in closer and closing the door. "I'm afraid Lady Hamish has ordered you to leave."

"As she should."

"Don't say that, Link. You _should_ be here! You are like family to us―"

"Yes, but I am not like family to family," he interrupted, his stony voice wavering. "Arin and Byron are sure to despise me now, Lady Hamish never liked me in the first place, which only makes matters worse. And after what happened, I can't blame them. I failed my one duty as the Ward of this family, Telmar. I should have never let Arin near that waterfall, I should have never joined, I should have done anything. I don't even know why Sir Hamish dove in to save me, but I can't change it now."

"He risked his life because he cared for you, Link." The words made Link freeze in place.

"Don't lie to me, Telmar." It came out barely as a pained whisper. "I know you mean well, but please, not now."

"I believe it is the truth," Telmar said, putting a hand on Link's shoulder. He shied away from it. "I know your father was a man of few words, even to his own children he wasn't very open, but I've known him since he was a boy. I truly believe that he grew to care for you of the years Link. In his own, silent, way."

Link contemplated Telmar's message in silence, the muscles in his jaw tensing and relaxing as he pondered, but I fear he found very little resolution.

"Here, I want you to have this." From his belt pouch, Mister Telmar produced a small leather purse. "It's not much, but it will last you a long summer if you're smart with it." Link weighed the purse in his hand from a moment and shook his head.

"I can't take this from you, Telmar."

"You can," he insisted, shoving it inside Link's travel bag. "I am a simple man, lad, there are few things I want in life. I'm well looked after, I'm fed, I have a roof over my head, and I'm safe. Money is useless to me as a servant. Take it, Link, you'll need it. It would continue to sit in my safe collecting dust otherwise, please, let me give this last gift to you before we part ways."

Link studied Telmar with those deep eyes. He could have sworn tears were welling within them. "Thank you. Truly. You have been a constant source of support in my life Telmar. I will miss you dearly."

"And you will be missed, by every servant here. Remember that, Link, when you're out there alone. And please, stay safe. The times are changing, and the world is a strange place." It was a simple thing really, but it seemed to have a profound effect on our little Hero. Smiling sadly, Link hefted his belongings over shoulder and blew out the single waning candle by his bed.

"Where will you go?" Link paused at that question before he answered.

"Home."

"I see." Catching his arm, Telmar embraced Link one last time. "Goodbye Link."

"Goodbye, Telmar."

Out into the warm breezy night our Hero went, a small black shadow trekking down the hill till he vanished into the wetlands, his course set due south. It was a parting of the old, and a beginning of the new.

* * *

And off on a new adventure Link goes!

As always, I look forward to hearing from each and everyone of you.

-Bold


	12. Chapter 12

-Prelude V-

On a little bridge between the Sheikah village of Kakariko and the Hylian strong hold of Fort Hateno, there was a merry entourage of traveling merchants. Their names―which were distinctly Hylian names―were Gondo, Coro, and Misko; the Grand Traveling Artisan Merchants of Hyrule and Associates Incorporated, as they called themselves. A ridiculous and overbearing name really, but they were quite proud of it. With wagons and pack mules overloaded with the newest and greatest novelties, oddities, assorted goods and equipment, that merry band of merchants were hard set on traveling the land of Hyrule to gain their great fortune. From Necluda to Hebra, and even to the great walls of Hyrule Castle itself―where the King lived with a rupee purse stretched tighter than the skin on a drum―they were eager and ready for the long and bountiful haul.

"We'll be the richest men in the world," Misko, the leader of the group, declared. "Through thick or thin, my friends, we'll be so rich we'll have to hire people to carry out money."

"Yeah," Coro said in a slow, lackadaisical manner. He was a rather mellow individual. "I just hope people will want to buy all this _stuff_ … Oh, you know what we need? Some lamps. People are always looking to buy lamps… oh! And lamp oil. Can't have a lamp without oil, guy."

Gondo said nothing. He merely drove his wagon behind the others, oblivious to the world as he focused his jeweler's spectacles on an odd-looking metallic rock, gently examining each facet, testing its makeup.

"Hey, Misko," Coro continued, running a hand through his unruly curly mess of a hairdo. "What _if_ no one wants to buy our stuff?"

"Oh, they'll buy it," Misko promised him, smiling with smug self-assuredness. "And if they don't, burn me, I'll turn into a bandit and steal my fortune. I tell you that Coro, I won't be a poor man any longer!"

"Gosh, guy… I don't know. Doesn't seem very cool to me, stealing stuff. Why don't we just sell lamp oil instead?"

"What is it with you and lamp―"

"Hey, Misko, look!" Gondo, who for the first time was actually paying attention to what was around him, had shouted and pointed up the hill, where there seemed to be a band of gangly little red beasts running at them full tilt, squealing like hogs as they barreled down the trail. They were coming right for them!

"What in Hylia's name is going on?"

"Bokoblins!" Coro screamed, clasping his hands against his head in fear. "I knew we should'a hired guards! Oh man, they're gonna take everything we own! Turn around, turn around." Of course, turning around on that narrow bridge between Hateno and Kakariko was quite impossible given the size of their overloaded and unagile wagons. Coro made a move to dive over the side into the river below.

"Wait, Coro, look!" Misko pointed further up the hill, where there was a strange looking lad chasing after them, bow drawn back, and arrow knocked. He looked like a terrifying storm rolling down the mountain with his bow at the ready and his stance like a wild wolf ready to pounce on his prey. Maybe he was a ranger, Misko wondered, or maybe a sellsword. Either way, it seemed that they were in luck. "Look, those Bokoblins are running from that guy up there, cheer him on!"

While the trio of traveling merchants cheered on their savior, the Bokoblins scattered among the trees and cowered as arrow after arrow zipped past, pinning down their comrades with deadly accuracy, each twang of the stranger's bow provoking a loud anguished squeal. Falling one by one those little beasts were struck down until only three remained cowering against a large boulder.

Gondo, Coro, and Misko all watched agape in awe as their strange savior sprinted towards the bolder in leaping bounds, and launched himself into a summersault, bow at the ready. Time seemed to slow as that stranger flew through the air. He pulled back one arrow. _Twang!_ Two. _Twang!_ Three. _Twang!_ Each arrow hit its target dead center forehead, and all before he ever hit the ground. He landed with as nimbly as a cat.

The trio could see their saviors face up close now, he seemed rather young to be fighting Bokoblins like that. Not that they were complaining, in fact far from it, but it was still surprising to see. He couldn't have been more than sixteen, if that―he was rather short. But there was no mistaking his skill, no indeed. That was a true warrior right there, Misko said to himself. Maybe they could hire him to guard their valuable possessions? Coro was right, they needed a sellsword. They couldn't afford the risk of having their wares raided.

"Excuse me, young man!" Misko jumped from his wagon and ran to the strange bowman to catch him before he went along his way. The bowman seemed surprised when he saw Misko running to him, little more than a perplexing crook of the eyebrow, but he didn't say anything. "I say, excuse me." Misko wheezed, catching his breath after the long sprint up the hill. "That was exemplary! Where did you learn to shoot a bow like that?"

"I was trained," he said stonily over his shoulder as he began retrieving his arrows from the Bokoblin corpses.

"Well I'll be… are you a soldier then?" There was a long pause. It didn't even seem like he was paying any attention. Misko gave it a beat, then opened his mouth to ask again, in case he didn't hear the first time.

"No." The strange bowman carried on with his work as if he were merely cutting the grass, paying little attention to Misko.

"Oh… good. Well, you are quite the bowman," Misko exclaimed. The stranger grunted affirmatively. "What made you hunt down a pack of wild Bokoblins? Did they attack you? They are quite erratic vermin you know, they rarely come out in full day light like this."

"I took a job from Kakariko Village," he explained gruffly, cleaning the end of an arrow in the grass before shoving it back in his quiver. "They needed a nearby encampment disposed of. Figured I might as well clear them out."

"How much did they pay you?" Misko asked, intrigued, wearing his best salesmen smile.

"One-hundred rupees."

"What would you say to double that amount, every day, guarding my wares?" He was sure that would catch the bowman's attention, but he merely kept on digging out arrows and looting the Bokoblins' pockets. He changed his approach. "Just think of it. Two-hundred rupees a day for as long as we travel the land Hyrule! You'll be rich in no time my friend, and you'll get to see the world. Imagine seeing the crystal pillars of Zora's Domain, the rumbling heights of Death Mountain, the whistling hills of Tabantha, or even the oasis of the Gerudo!" Misko threw his hands in the air, a true artisan setting himself on the performance stage. "It's a grand adventure just waiting to happen, I tell you!"

"Thank you, but no."

Misko's jaw hung open… he turned down two-hundred rupees a day? You would have to be a madman to turn down a rate like that! "Please, you must reconsider," he said companionably. "You see, my associates and I are forming the greatest trade show Hyrule has ever seen, starting with little Kakariko! We have rarities and luxuries from across the ocean. Labyrnna, Holodrum, and beyond. We even have wares from Termina! Tell me, have you ever heard of a merchant carrying wares from Termina?"

"Never heard of Termina," the bowman replied. He had finished gathering his arrows.

"Oh, it's a wonderful place," Misko beamed. "They have such an interesting culture; so colorful, so lively! Why, here, take a look at this." Digging around in his backpack, Misko procured a small mask that was shaped like the face of a narrow-nosed Keaton with long pointy ears. "They have a fascination with masks in Termina you see, a sort of tradition they have there. They're a people after my own heart. But enough about that. Will you reconsider my offer? We are in need of a capable man such as yourself!"

"Thank you again, but no."

"Why not?" Misko whined, his signature high-cheeked-squinty-eyed smile slipping away.

"I'm going home. There's someone there I need to see." As if that was his que, the strange bowman shouldered his weapon, and adjusted his travel pack, preparing to be on his way.

"Two-fifty a day!" Misko blurted out, but the bowman shook his head. "Very well. I am sad to see wasted potential, but every man knows what he's about then, eh? Maybe we will cross paths in the future. Safe travels."

"To you too," the bowman replied politely before carrying on his way down the path towards Hateno Village. Misko sighed vexingly. It seemed they were going to have to look elsewhere for an armed escort. That was going to be hard to come by, and especially not cheaply. Misko wondered if it was even worth the struggle, the whole traveling merchant thing… he always thought he'd make a better bandit than a salesman anyways.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

A Familiar Face

"Ouch!"

Helen of Hateno was never much of a seamstress. She had a bad habit of stabbing her finger with the needle every other stich, but all the same she was admirably determined to master it. Her mother taught her how to sew many years ago, when she was a little girl, but ever since then she had seemed to have forgotten most of the subtle tricks and nuances of the craft.

Eight orders of alterations were piled high on her sewing desk, and already the sun was creeping well below the mountains to the west.

It would be another long night of work, she realized, sighing, but it was far better than her previous… _employment._ Not that it this was easy, though. There was a tremendous amount of work that had to be put in to make a profit as a seamstress―she was already behind on her monthly payments to her landlord, of whom she was buying her childhood home back from―but anything was better than the village Inn. Even if she had to live off of nothing but bland rice and goats' milk for the rest of her life just to make save enough money to pay her debts, it was better than spending one more night in that drunkard-infested cesspool.

The thought sent a surge of determination through her nimble fingers, reinvigorating her with hasty progress. She'd get at least five of those alterations done tonight, she swore, and then she'd make a nice steaming cup of tea and cozy up to the fire before drifting off to a well-deserved sleep.

"Ouch!" _Again._

She stuck her index finger in her mouth to stop the pin prick from bleeding too much when suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. Naturally she wondered who on earth would be knocking on her door at this late hour. Setting her work aside and checking her appearance in the mirror to make sure she at least looked presentable, Helen strode over to her front door and opened it.

An odd young man greeted her with wide deep blue eyes. He was a rather handsome lad, although short of beautiful in a traditional sense, but she didn't recall ever meeting him in town before. With long golden hair that was pulled back neatly in a leather cord, a lean athletic figure, and a bow strung over his shoulder, Helen marked him as a ranger, or even an off-duty soldier. But what business did he have here, she wondered?

"May I help you?"

"You are Helen, correct?" the young man asked. He almost seemed anxious; his voice was a little raspy, but his face was expressly flat and tempered. Or at least he was forcing it to be that way.

"Yes, I am Helen… are you here to retrieve one of my client's work?" He could have been the son of one of her clients, she thought. "I'm afraid I'm still working on them―"

"No," he interrupted, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. "You must not recognize me… I suppose it's understandable…" He trailed off. Now Helen was quite curious. She scoured her memory deeply, trying to put a name to that face. Come to mention it, there was something about his eyes and nose that seemed awfully familiar to her. He almost looked like…

"What is your name?" Helen's heart began to race… surely, she thought, it couldn't be _him?_

"Link."

"Link," Helen repeated, falling into a stunned almost dreamy haze. The name felt so odd on her lips, so wonderfully odd. It was a name she had spoken aloud in years, and yet… "It can't be you." Was she dreaming, she wondered? Why would he be here? Her mind raced with equal parts excitement and dreadful doubt.

"Its me," he answered, that expressly flat face contorting with an encroaching, almost cautious, smile. "I've come home."

For what seemed like an eternity Helen examined every curve of his face, his nose, his brow, his jaw, it all seemed so… so right. It had been so many years, she thought, and he was just a child then, but his eyes were just the right shade of blue, his hair was as golden as hers, his ears, his chin were all right. She reached out with trembling hands and felt the contour of his cheeks. They were so smooth. And his hair; it was as soft as she remembered. Could it really be?

At last her mind decided.

"Oh Link." Tears welled in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him close. He seemed startled by her sudden embrace at first, but it wasn't long before he returned the favor, running comforting hands over her back, resting his head in the crook of her neck. Helen could hardly describe the feeling of holding her son in her arms again, but in that moment, she couldn't muster the will power to ever let go. She didn't even realize that she was sobbing like a child.

"Its alright," Link said softly, squeezing her tighter. "I'm back."

"Link, what happened? Your father―"

"He died." Helen froze from shock, and pulled away to look at his face again, cupping each cheek in her hands.

"What?"

"There was an accident," Link explained, his eyes glistening in the setting sunlight. Her heart seized up seeing a pang of guilt work through his expression. "He died trying to save me…" Helen listened intently to his long tale, swiftly ushering him inside as his spirit began to unravel and fall apart in her arms and sat him down. The more he told, the lower he sank in his chair and the darker his eyes became, and it tore at her like a dagger. There was so much pain beneath the calm surface of those eyes of his. All she could do was gently hold him.

Her little boy had grown up so much, she realized. He had seen and done so many things, suffered so many pains, and yet for all the pain and suffering, she couldn't help but feel a swelling joy in her chest just knowing that he had come back to her. After so many years, after giving up hope of ever seeing him again, her son, _her Link,_ had finally come back to her. And she couldn't be happier with that.

For the rest of that night Helen didn't touch another needle as she comforted Link, taking the time to cook him something that was sure to bolster his spirits. He insisted on helping her, but she made him sit and rest by the fire as he slowly pulled off his boots and set his belongings in the corner. He had been on a long adventure after all, walking all the way from the Wetlands to Hateno village, and hunting Bokoblins to boot, he needed the rest. It only took a little harmless quarreling to make him relax―she was quite proud of herself, winning the argument―and by the time he had finished eating and drinking he passed out like a baby in a cradle.

Her little boy had changed so much, she thought with a long sigh. So much, and yet the little boy she once knew was still there, just a scratch beneath the surface. All it took was a little digging. Draping a blanket over him, Helen kissed his brow goodnight, and prayed a thousand thanksgivings to the eyes watching over her from the heavens.

She hadn't been happier than she was then in twelve long years.

* * *

See, I told you things wouldn't always be all rain and sad puppies! I was really looking forward to writing this, I hope you enjoyed. I know I did!

Something to note: I received a very thoughtful review from a guest on chapter eleven; I usually try to PM people about reviews but since its a guest review I can send PM, so I figured I'd answer it here. Here's to you, guest-DOOT76!

So I think that you bring up a perfectly valid point, and I hope that it hasn't turned you off from this story, but I do have my reasons for Sir Hamish's character, and Link's side of the story in general being brief and I guess a little "underdeveloped." I really do encourage you to continue to read this story because I think that in time, once we really dive into the meat of this story you'll get an idea of why I chose to keep things almost hush hush.

Without spoiling anything, I will say that while Link is a big part of the story, obviously, we won't really get to see the world from his exact perspective. Notice so far that we've been the back seat driver for other characters like Telmar, Mipha, Helen, and from the narrators semi-omnipotent perspective, but we never get to see through Link's eyes. I know this might sound like rambling, but it is intentional. Maybe I didn't handle in the best way possible, but it is intentional all the same.

Also keep in mind that we still have a big character to really dive into: Zelda. Her part is coming soon, and I wanted her interactions with Link to feel organic for you, my lovely readers, because a big part of the original game is that she never knows what Link is thinking because he's so reserved, almost secretive. So I wanted to preserve a little of that mystery magic, which means seeing things from Link's perspective shatters that mystery magic. There are things about Link (except me, I know them ;P) that we don't know yet that we will learn in the future, (how he feels, what he's thinking, who he likes, who he hates) all through the eyes of Zelda.

All will be explained in time, I promise.

And also, I do have a couple things up my sleeve for developing Link into the Champion Badass that he is made out to be in the original game ;) I think that by the end of the day he'll be different from the other stories I've written, hopefully. (Big emphasis on the hopefully, don't hate me if I fail, I do try my best!)

That is all, thanks for your lovely reviews!

-Bold


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

An Exciting Discovery

"Hey! Zellie!"

The door to the Princess's room practically came off its hinges as an eccentric Sheikah hardly taller than her waist kicked her way in, much to the guardsmen's livid exasperation. Zelda's eyes snapped awake at the commotion, admittedly terror struck for a moment―she thought the roof must be coming down on top of her given Purah's over the top volume―but when she realized it was only her trusted friend and research partner, Zelda fell back into her feathered pillows, sighing agitatedly while she rubbed the tiredness from her eyes.

The sun hadn't even risen fully yet, and yet that little feisty Sheikah was up and at it, her signature oversized spectacles practically falling off the end of her nose as she rushed into the room, tucking a slew of rolled up manuscripts and strange metal surveying tools under each arm. She always was such a troublesome woman, barreling through ever room she entered like a hurricane on the high sea, but she was quite a dependable partner, and of course exceptionally versed in all things regard Sheikah history and ancient technology.

At least, as versed as anyone could be in that day and age; even to the Sheikah the remnants of their ancestors were entirely a mystery that needed solving. But that never got Purah down, far from it really. Where there was a puzzle, she would run her nose to the ground in the hunt, scouring the trail for any clue or lead that would solve the great enigma that was the Ancient Guardians.

Naturally, that meant she could be rather irritatingly persistent.

"Can this not wait till a reasonable hour?" Zelda grumbled, turning away with a huff. She had been up late the night before, like she always was, at the castle shrine to pray―beg really―for _anything_ useful. So far, the whole ordeal appeared to be uselessly futile. Yet for all its uselessness, praying was so engrained her daily routine that she found it quite impossible to fall asleep at night otherwise. Perhaps it was childish, she thought, that some how she had seemed to have been trapped under the illusion that if she didn't pray every single day and night her sealing power wouldn't awake, just for the spite of it, but at this point she wasn't willing to take the risk.

After all, all it _could_ take was just _one_ fateful prayer to open her ears to those voices from the Spirit Realm her mother always spoke of and awaken the Sealing Powers she was ordained to possess. To think if she missed just that _one_ prayer… well, she wasn't sure what she would do. Probably lay down and except her death, she thought grimly to herself.

"Come on Princess, rise and shine!" Purah sang the words in an irritatingly high-pitched song. "You'll be leaping out of that bed when I tell you what was uncovered yesterday evening!" Purah practically buzzed with restrained excitement, squirming and hoping like a child. Zelda sandwiched her head between two pillows to blot out the light and loud noises.

"And what is that, Purah?" she asked.

"They've uncovered Divine Beast Vah Medoh in the Hebra Mountains! Elder Kaneli sent word as fast as he could, it seems he's eager to be rid of the monstrous thing. I fear the fool bird-brained Rito will have it piloted here if they can figure out how to activate it."

"What!" That did make Zelda leap from her bed.

"Oh…" Purah began to cackle to herself, covering her mouth to hide a beaming smirk. "Maybe you should get cleaned up and dressed before we continue, you look worse than a stinky Bokoblin, dear." Zelda checked herself in the mirror, eyes squinting critically. Her hair was an abysmal mess, she thought, and her eyes puffy and red―not from crying, she insisted―and her night gown was pulled in every which way as if she had an restless night of turning in bed.

"Goddess, I do look awful," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. Very disappointingly un-lady like, she thought to herself, as if she assumed no one woke up looking like a plague. That Princess of the Hylians was a silly little thing, really. "Give me a moment." Slipping out from under the covers, Zelda slunk over to her vanity and began combing out the kinks in her long golden hair. Her lady's maids always insisted she keep it well kempt, lest her appearance seem anything short of royal. She hated it, the constant upkeep, but what was to be done? She certainly couldn't go about looking like a cavern Moblin.

"I'll call up a maid for you, meet me at the laboratory in two hours," Purah snickered, hopping off down the hall, her metal tools clinking with every step. _Clink-clink-clink-clink,_ till the clinking faded away, announcing her departure. Within the quarter hour, Zelda's maid arrived, face still flush from its morning scrub and wash, and began to help her dress into something remotely presentable. ' _Remotely_ presentable,' as her maid put it. 'Ladies should never be allowed to wear trousers,' she would say with a stuck-up huff, 'they leave so little to the imagination… and you know how men are; they're all pigs, even the best of them. I just don't agree with it, your majesty, not in the slightest.'

But Zelda put her foot down, every time. How on earth was she to conduct proper field research if she had a cumbersome dress on, always getting in the way and stepped on? The idea of it was nonsense! She liked her maid, she was a diligent and loyal servant, but her sense of propriety was outdated even by her father's time.

"Thank you Lini," Zelda said, once she servant was satisfied with her handiwork. Although, _satisfied_ was a subjective term. "You may go. Oh! And would you please alert Sir Alaric that I will be riding to the Tech Lab today, and have the groom prepare my horse."

"Of course, my Lady," her maid replied with a smart curtsy.

Within the hour, Zelda arrived at the castle stables, her guard-escort following close behind. Sir Alaric was his name, the eldest son of a lesser family of knights in the realm of Hyrule. He was a man of enormous build and height, sporting a thick mustache on his upper lip, and although he had a kind and warm complexion, Sir Alaric fell rather short of handsome. Not that that really mattered, he was quite good at his job serving as her Appointed Knight, as he had done faithfully so ever since she was a child. Her father personally chose him from the ranks of the Royal Guard nearly eight years prior because his exemplary skills in swordsmanship and stout devotion to the Crown, but also because he seemed to posses one of the most genuinely incorruptible moral compasses of any Knight among the Royal Guards.

"How are you this morning, Princess?" he asked warmly, as he always did before an outing.

"Exceptionally well this morning, Sir Alaric," Zelda replied. "I received word from Purah that we have finally uncovered one of the Divine Beasts in the Hebra Frontier! I am out to met her at the Laboratory to hear all the details."

"A Divine Beast," he whistled in wonder. "Who would have thought? What do you plan to do with such a thing?"

"First of all, we will need to run diagnostics on the monstrous thing, the most we've ever know about them is their size and relative capability, you see, but even that information was shoddy and incomplete to begin with. Seems that ten-thousand-year-old texts and manuscripts aren't exactly fit to survive very long outside of controlled environments― _naturally_ ―but regardless we have the real thing now! And I intend to spend every waking moment researching and observing each square inch of it!"

"Every waking moment?" Sir Alaric asked, eyebrow crooking slightly. Zelda gave a long pause.

"Well, every waking moment that I'm not in prayer…" There was still that, much to her disappointment. "But as soon as I get the details, I plan to ask my father for his blessing to go on an expedition."

"Aren't you a little young to be going out on expeditions, Princess?" Sir Alaric asked, helping her up into her saddle. She took the reins nervously; Zelda never was very good a riding horses, she always felt like she was going to be thrown off its back, even at a mild canter. "I wouldn't think it wise for you to be out and about in the world, danger lurks in the most unexpected places."

"I don't think so," she insisted, holding tightly onto the horn of her saddle to steady herself. "If I am ever to inherit my father's kingdom then I need to see and visit the lands I will someday rule, don't I?" Zelda paused, a somber thought coming to her. "If we are successful in fending off Calamity Ganon, that is."

"We will be successful, Princess," Sir Alaric said reassuringly, mounting his own horse. " _You_ will be successful, I am sure of it. Fret not, Hylia has a steady hand in all this and I have every confidence that your path will be made clear before you. Why, I even hear that the King plans to initiate a program in the Hylian army to further along our search for the one who would be Chosen by the Sword."

"Really?" Zelda gaped. "How so?"

"His hope is to establish a standardized testing protocol for all current and future soldiers, as well as Knights and their sons, if they have any. It will be a call to action, of sorts, for every man to go and test themselves against the Sword of Evil's Bane." Sir Alaric led his horse beside hers with ease, and together they began at a slow trot to the West Gate, which was the fastest route to the Ancient Tech Lab.

"And what if _he_ is not found among the ranks of the Hylian army?" She asked, doubtfully. So far, nothing had come without a fight, why would this be any different?

"Pray it isn't so," Sir Alaric sighed deeply, "but if that is the case then the test will be extended to every breathing and able Hylian male in the realm. A census will have to be performed first to record every name, of course, but eventually, one way or another, every man will be brought forward. Be he a lowly shepherd boy or a wealthy merchant. I even heard that it was proposed that if the search grows desperate enough, even common criminals will be shipped out and given a chance at pulling the Sword."

"I can't imagine the amount of time and money that would cost," Zelda breathed. To think, _every_ man in the realm of Hyrule going to try their hand at pulling the Master Sword from its pedestal. She never was much of an economical or socioeconomical strategist―she spent far more time in prayer than learning how to run a proper kingdom―but even she could see that going that far would sap the Crown of every available rupee in the treasury. Who else was going to pay to have thousands of men carted off from their homes and farms to tug on a silly sword? Who was going to reimburse the working men who would potentially lose days or weeks of profits just to travel half way across the land?

"It would be rather a large mess," Sir Alaric agreed. "But, I'm sure it will all turn out alright soon. If we're lucky, one of us among the Knights of Hyrule will free the Sword from its pedestal, instead of a common man. Of course, the King would have whoever pulled the Sword knighted right away, but he would still be a common man rising up high in the world. Wouldn't that be something, eh, Princess?"

"It certainly would," Zelda agreed, gripping the horn of her saddle again as her horse shifted a little as her hooves hit loose cobblestone. The beast certainly didn't when she pulled on its mane in fear, so she tried her best to avoid that. "Who knows, maybe even you will free the Sword, Sir Alaric." Her Appointed Knight laughed.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Princess."

"Why's that?" she asked, tilting her head curiously. "You'd be hailed as the Hero of Hyrule. Isn't that the sort of glory knights and soldiers dream of?"

"Maybe some men do," Sir Alaric answered. "But I'm no hero, Princess. Glory isn't something I crave. I'm just a loyal servant of the realm, more than happy with my current station."

"So I see. Well, then for your sake I hope it isn't you either, although it would be nice to have someone I know and trust beside me wielding the Sword." That last part came out a little more somber than she had wanted. Zelda hated sounding like the thrower of a pity party, so she promptly changed her tone to correct it. "But I'm certain whoever the Sword of Evil's Bane has in mind will be an extraordinary individual. I'm sure we will get along just fine."

"I pray it will be so, Princess," Sir Alaric agreed warmly.

For the rest of their ride, Zelda and her Appointed Knight tried to focus on speaking on less pressing matters, just to relieve themselves of the weight. Talking about impending doom certainly wasn't the most uplifting conversation. But, in an hours' time they were making their way up the hill to the Ancient Tech Lab which was situated just west of Hyrule Castle, out on the borders between civilization and the open air of the wild.

Zelda felt like she could finally breathe, riding out under the white clouds and blue sky, a gentle summer breeze blowing through her hair. She'd much prefer to be out here where the grass grew tall than cooped up in the dim halls of Hyrule Castle, where the most interesting thing to see was old servants shuffle past to dust off some meaningless vase or a maid rushing past hefting a load of laundry on her hip. Well, the most interesting thing besides the library of course. The Great Library was her only saving grace within those stone walls, where the smell of century old books wafted passed your nose with every turn of a page.

So much knowledge at her finger tips. I envy her, seeing that grand hall of ancient knowledge in visions of the long past, where the books were stacked as high as the arching ceilings overhead.

But alas, the wild was where she felt the most at peace.

When Zelda and her escort reached the Laboratory itself, they were greeted―assailed really―by Purah, who was already elbow deep in a slew of written reports from her colleague Robbie who was the head researcher in charge of the Hebra excavations. She was running wildly back and forth in her laboratory, jumping on stools to reach the top shelves, where her erratically organized knickknacks and tools sat, most of which I could not give a name too, shouting nonsense.

It was humorous in a way, watching Zelda try her best to get Purah to slow down for even a moment to explain the huge fuss, but the most she could get out of her was that the Divine Beast Vah Medoh had already been awoken and was preparing to 'initiate launch procedures.' Whatever that meant.

"Purah, calm down," she said, stifling a laugh. "I can't understand you."

"Ah! You're being useless to me, dear," Purah harrumphed, shoving a hastily written letter in to Zelda's hands before returning to her lunacy of violently turning through pages and pages of old manuscripts, paying particular interest in the pages that detailed the anatomy of and physics of Rito in flight. Curiously, Zelda read the note given to her, which was dated for that very morning.

 _Purah,_

 _We're lucky Rito Couriers are brave enough to step on this beast, otherwise I'd never be able to get these messages to you… Vah Medoh is acting strangely. Prepare for an emergency landing. Any suggestions?_

 _-Robbie_

 _P.S. don't let the Princess get involved._

"What does he mean 'don't let the Princess get involved?"

"He's being silly, Zellie," Purah replied bluntly, slouching over a large encyclopedia as she squinted her eyes to see. "He's worried that if something happens and you're involved, the King will be furious. Do you see my glasses anywhere!?"

"'If something happens?'" Zelda exclaimed, stepping forward to push the Sheikah's spectacles down from her forehead so that they would sit on the bridge of her nose. Purah thanked her with a wave of the hand but didn't spare a second to look up. "Purah, what on earth is going on? Is Vah Medoh already functioning?"

"Yes, its functioning," Purah answered hastily, "but now it won't come down and Robbie cant figure out how to land the bloody thing―honestly, you would think the fool boy would use his brain someday!"

"What do you mean it won't come down?"

"It flies, dear," the Sheikah replied as if it were merely a matter of fact. "Why else would it resemble a bird?"

"Vah Medoh flies!?"

"Ugh, yes, Zellie, it flies," Purah deadpanned, a sly smirk twitching on her lips. "Now stop looking like a flapping fish out of water repeating my every answer as a question and help me figure out how to make the thing land without turning an unsuspecting village into a pancake!" Zelda hadn't the slightest idea what a pancake was, perhaps some kind of baked dessert, she thought, but she didn't waste time to ponder it very long.

Rushing over to help her, Zelda followed in Purah's example and began hurriedly reading through a dated study done on the physics behind sustained flight and feather patterns in various species of birds found throughout Hyrule. Normally, such a subject would be rather unexciting, but considering that there was now a massive flying fortress the size of an entire village floating around in the sky, any information on the subject of flight was relevant.

Page through page they scoured but weren't immediately finding anything that jumped out to them. Sir Alaric sat patiently in the corner of the Laboratory like he always did. It wasn't long until Purah threw her hands in their air and declared, "this is useless, Zellie, we need information from the source!"

"What do you mean?" Purah's answer was to bolt out the door, only to return minutes later with a Rito courier in tow. The courier hawked and puffed out his feathers indignantly as Purah pulled him in by the collar, but after a shuffle he eventually, and rather reluctantly, submitted and sat down while Purah interrogated him, standing on the table to match his eyeline.

"Tell me everything you know about flying and landing safely!" She pointed a demanding finger at the Rito's beak. He gave a start then spoke.

"What in the world are you on about, woman?"

"No time for useless questions," Purah insisted, placing closed fists on her hips. "We've got people to save, man, tell us everything!"

"What do you want me to say?" he scoffed irritably, adjusting his courier's satchel over his shoulder. "Why don't I just ask you how you walk, hm? Weird, isn't it? You just kinda do it naturally!"

"But there must be some process. What goes through your mind when you plan to land on solid ground?"

"Are you a lunatic? I don't have time for this, lady, I've got letters to deliver!" The Rito stood and made a move to leave through the door but froze when a suddenly droning noise began to rattle through the entire Laboratory. It started out low and rumbly, then grew in strength and frequency till the windows began shaking violently, as if a ferocious gale had blown through. Zelda and Purah looked at each other, a mixture of shock and excitement.

"Princess, what's going on?" Sir Alaric was standing now, an uneasy hand fingering the hilt of his sword as he seemed to search the air for what the mysterious noise was.

"That fool."

Smirking madly, Purah leapt from the table and burst through the front door, where the winds blew dirt and grass around wildly as if a tornado was spiraling through. Gazing up at the sky she began laughing maniacally.

Above them, in league with the clouds, there flew a great mechanical creature formed from an ancient brownish stone-like material of unknown makeup, great wings outstretched like a bird in flight. The roar of Vah Medoh shook the very ground like a strange melodic song. Zelda couldn't help but gape and laugh in awe. This was what they had worked tirelessly to find, that mighty ancient weapon that helped in slaying the calamitous beast of their ancestors!

And to think, it was but one of four!

Together, Zelda, Purah, Sir Alaric, and the now star struck Rito Courier watched in amazement as that great beast peaked in the sky and began to descend with its talons outstretched to the earth. A great boom echoed through the ground as the monolithic machine collided with the earth, stirring up the soil below it. The droning noise that seemed to drown everything else out began to die down, and soon the dust settled.

"Behold!" Purah cheered with avid joy, if not a little hysteria, "Vah Medoh, the great battle machine of the Rito!"

"I told you I could land it!" That was Robbie's voice echoing over the hills. He had begun to climb out of the piloting quarters and took a heroic stance on the crest of the beast's shoulder.

"I'm surprised you didn't crash in Castle Town and kill everyone, you imprudent no good Bokoblin looking…"

For nearly an hour and a half Purah berated her colleague with a selection of very colorful words Zelda could have never even imagined existed…. Truthfully, she could hardly hold in her laughter, even when Sir Alaric covered her ears, morally aghast by the Sheikah's vulgar tongue.

Oh, but she was so wonderfully happy seeing that magnificent machine perched proudly on the hill. It gave her hope for the future. Hope that she hadn't felt in years.

* * *

Is there anything more blessed than staying indoors when its cold and rainy outside, and write or read a book?

It the best, let me tell you.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, keep the reviews coming, they let me know how I'm doing!

-Bold


	14. Chapter 14

-Prelude VI-

"I'm getting too old for this."

It was just on the outskirts of the far-reaching farmlands of Hateno Village that there walked a lone elderly Hylian swordsman, his trusty broad bladed weapon hanging loosely on his hip, swinging against his leg with every shuffling limp. Bruman was his given name, which I believe once meant to be devout or even stubborn in the Old Tongue; he fit the meaning of it quite well, I think. Although the hair on his head were all but grey and white, and the skin on his jowl drooped and sagged with wrinkles, that foolish old man was stubbornly marching his way up that mountain trail, a single psychotic goal in mind.

"I'll teach you to steal my precious goats one more time, you nasty beats," he grumbled to himself. I fear he had awoken in the night to quite a racket in his pasture, where his _precious_ property was swiftly swept up in droves and carried off by some unsightly beasts. "I'll show that foolish Town Guard how to deal with an infestation." He spat the very name of those guardsmen like a curse.

When had they done anything useful, he thought to himself? All they did was mosey around, too drunk and drenched in their stupor to even stand up straight, much less swing a sword properly. _Useless!_ Well, Bruman thought, if no one was going to do anything about those monsters on the hill, then he was! By Hylia, live or die, he wasn't going to let those nasty things take his goats one more time! He knew it was utter madness, but he simply seemed to lose grasp of any sort of reasonable care.

"Of course, the soldiers at Fort Hateno are no help," he grumbled to himself peevishly. "'We're too busy dealing with _real_ problems.' _Bah!_ Nonsense. They're just too scared. I'll show them―ow!" Bruman pressed a hand against the small of his back. Walking too long always made the muscles in his back cramp. He was getting to old for this all indeed.

But he was insistent. He was going to kill those Hinox Brothers once and for all, or die trying.

And so, up the mountain trail he climbed, till at last he came to the swampy hideout of those hideous giants, and drew his sword stealthily while they snored loudly, their gargantuan bellies rising and falling with every piggish breath and snort. _Stupid monsters,_ he thought to himself roguishly, _falling asleep in broad day light._ It would make his job much easier.

Climbing his way into one of the Hinox's outstretched hands with many huffs and puffs, Bruman carefully tip-toed his way up its arm, ignoring the putrid smell of rotting goat carcasses scattered about the monsters' den, and clambered up onto its chest where he could easily strike the beast down. A big ugly eye slept complacently underneath the point of his blade.

"Take this you brute." Lifting his blade skyward, Bruman drove his weapon right into the Hinox's eye, awakening the beast. The monster roared louder than any beast he had ever heard, and far angrier too. I fear all the old fool did was stir the giant from its slumber and gave it a great and terrible resolve. A resolve to have a delectable taste of Hylian flesh.

Shouting as he leapt from the creature's chest, Bruman collided with the ground with a clumsy and painful roll, just barely avoiding the aching swipe from the Hinox's claws as it roared in pain. Animal bones cracked and clattered beneath him at he was sprawled out like a ragdoll thrown in a child's tantrum, the wind knocked out from his aging lungs. His sword had gone missing too, to his dismay, likely thrown away Hylia knew where, but that didn't make the fool man tuck tail and run.

Crawling to his feet Bruman finally stood to face down the Hinox brothers of the mountain, three glaring and terrifying eyes centered on him alone and those beasts licked their lips in anticipation of their next gangly meal. "Come on then you fiends," Bruman barked, pulling a dagger from his boot. "I've lived long enough. I'm tired and old, and you damn thieves won't leave an old man to his final possessions. Come on then. Come and taste my steel!" Resolving himself from impending death, that foolish old man charged the three giant brothers, a battle cry from the old days of his youth serving as a soldier proud upon his lips.

However, that foolish old geezer wouldn't die that day, for just in the nick of time there came an unlikely stranger donned in a hooded cloak of Hateno make, and a longbow drawn taut and at the ready.

Brauman watched with awe as that stranger swooped in, leaping over boulders and dancing between the Hinoxs' feet as he riddled the brutes with arrows until they were whimpering and howling like hounds. Every twang from his was accompanied by a great bellowing cry of anguish and fury.

The beasts of the mountain stomped and reared in anger, using just about anything they could get their grubby hands on to throw and their assailant. Uprooted trees flew down the hill with loud crashes and boulders cratered in the soft soil with deep booms, but it was all to no effect, the bowman simply dodged the barrage. Of course, they caught bowman once or twice with their hands, giving him a good thrashing and thump on the head, but just as quickly as he had been caught, he seemed to slip away like a sleek forest Keaton, drawing blood from their fat fingers with a long curved dagger.

Just watching that mysterious bowman dispatch his foes with ease rallied the old man's spirit, and he cheered the lad on with every ounce of his energy, shouting, laughing, and praising―cursing the felled beasts with great gusto.

"See what happens when you steal my goats you big ugly bastards! Never again!" At last when the last of the Hinoxs' lives had been spent, Bruman ran to meet the mysterious bowman to thank him and learn more of his deeds. After all, that lad helped avenge his precious goats, and he had every intention of rewarding such a valiant effort.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Debts to Be Paid

Helen awoke in the late hours of the morning with a rather painful crick in the neck after being bent over her work the night before. She hated waking up so late, but the long years hadn't been kind to her body and sometimes a little extra sleep went a long way. So, mustering her energy, Helen slipped out of bed to wash her face thoroughly and threw on her usual clothes; a simple sky-blue dress of a light cotton weave to combat the summer warmth, and a narrow silk ribbon to hold the long trusses of her hair back and out of the way. A simple getup, really.

But she preferred its simplicity. It was much better than the gaudy dresses she was once forced to wear. Helen tried to forget those days, dwelling on them always brought her spirits down.

Rolling her shoulders to loosen the muscles of her back, Helen began her daily morning routine of seeing to the cooking, which was almost always oatmeal and eggs, or just plain rice. However, today would be different. She planned on crafting something special to celebrate Link's return. Link had only been there a few days by then, and yet the best she had managed to serve him was a simple fish curry one night, which in her book was hardly something worth noting. So, naturally, she was determined to prepare something that would _really_ put a smile on his face, and a warmth in his belly.

Link was already long gone by the time she made it down stairs, he always seemed to be out and about before the sun ever rose, but she knew he'd be back by lunch time with a stomach growling like an odious Bokoblin―he always came back for lunch. Where he went off to every morning, she couldn't say for certain, but he usually came back with a small purse of rupees from an odd-job or a fine and fat wild bird ready to be plucked and sold in the village market. It seemed to her son had become a fine hunter in all his years of being with his father, though he rarely went into detail about all the training he had received. That for the larger part remained a mystery.

And Helen didn't want to push him for details, considering what had happened not even two weeks prior.

Still, there was one thing she could do that was sure fire way to keep his spirits up, and that was to cook! And thanks to the extra money going in and out of the house now, Helen had spared no expense on a massive cut of tender beef, which she intended to salt and sear to juicy perfection, coupling it with a steamed mushroom vegetable skewer. And finally, to top it all off, a blueberry pie from their resident baker, Misses Daylen.

Helen got right to work, humming to herself as she stoked the fire till there were hot coals perfect for heating pots and pans, and tied a clean white apron around her waist to keep the soot off her clothes. First on the list was the vegetables, which needed washing and cutting, then skewering and steaming in a large lidded pot. A simple task, but one that took a little time to cook, so while she waited, she got a head start on her sewing till the sun reached its noonday height.

Helen was just about to begin searing the steak when there came a sudden knock on the door. It wasn't a very gentle knock, far from it really, so she made sure to peak out the window first to see who had come to visit her, iron fire rod held stealthily in the folds of her skirt.

She made a disgusted noise when she recognized who her visitor was.

Throwing the door open she said with a sigh, "what do you want Terin?" A curly sneer pinched the man's fat lips unpleasantly as the greeting. Master Terin, you see, was Helen's landlord and source of constant irksome problems concerning the ownership of her home― _her_ home mind you―and although he had never done anything that violated the law precisely, the whole village of Hateno knew him to be a most odious and venomous snake that ever did slither on their lands. As merciful as a tyrant that callous landlord was; he would double your interest rates just as fast as you could sneeze and say bless you or harass you for payment the very hour it was due, all for the twisted spite of it. A rupee pinching, life sapping, money hoarder through and through, that Master Terin was.

"It is the end of the month, Helen," Terin replied with a whip of that curt tongue of his, beady little eyes looking Helen up and down appraisingly as he ran stubby little fingers through his slicked back charcoal hair. "And you are behind on last month's payment. I expect a double payment today, _with_ added late fees."

"You're worse than an oily river eel, Terin," Helen said harshly, having half the mind to slam the door on his bulbus nose. She knew how to deal with men like. "You know all to well that no one can afford your mortgages at these ridiculous rates! Its simply unethical, unfair, lowly. You're going to run honest working people into the ground if you keep this up. What you're doing should be against the law!"

"I do not determine the real estate market, Miss Helen," Terin replied indignantly. " _It_ determines what _I_ charge. And the world we live in now changes as fast as the weather. Its all just business, don't blame me for your financial shortcomings. Remember, after all, you are the one that signed the deed."

"Well I don't have the money," Helen blurted out, as embarrassing as it was to her. Perhaps she should have waited on buying that expensive beef, she though regretfully. "No, you will simply have to wait till next week once I have these orders filled―and I will have them filled mind you―then you will have your money! So, if you will excuse me―"

Terin's hand slapped against the door with a loud thud when she tried to close it, pinning it open. "Now you listen to me, woman, I won't be addressed in this manner by the likes of you―"

"Can I help you?" a rough voice interrupted. Terin froze with a snarling frown. He turned to address the new comer, seeming surprised to find a young man carrying a large decrepit wooden chest over his shoulder, and a longbow slung across the other. He could not put a name to the young face, which marked him a stranger to Hateno Village, but the elderly man that shuffled up behind him he recognized in an instant. Mister Bruman, the goatherd. Another one of his _customers_ in fact.

"This does not concern you, boy," Terin answered peevishly, returning to Helen. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could a firm hand gripped his pristine white collar, preventing him from entering the door way any further.

"Can I help you?" the boy asked again, more irritated than before. The large chest he had been carrying was haphazardly thrown to the ground.

"Unhand me, boy," Master Terin growled, slapping the man's hand away to smooth over the new wrinkles in his favorite dress shirt. "Mister Bruman, who is this little pest? A relative of yours?"

"The name's Link," Bruman answered, rolling his upper lip as he puffed air out like an old farm dog. "Best you don't anger the boy, he's quite handy with that bow." Given the state of the bowman's muddy and bloodied clothes, Master Terin very much doubted that. It looked as if he had rolled through a pigsty. Smelled like it too.

"Well I do not have business with him," Master Terin answered, eyes shooting daggers at Link. "This is between me and Miss Helen, who refuses to pay up what its lawfully mine."

"I told you, Terin," Helen answered, her face growing flush with embarrassment. She hated having Link watch all this; to think his own mother who couldn't run a proper household. It was something she hoped to have kept silent "I don't have the money yet, but I will! By the end of this week, I swear."

"That is not good enough," Master Terin seethed.

"How much?" Link asked simply, his face as hard and unreadable as stone.

"Excuse me?" Master Terin asked incredulously.

"How much does she owe?" That face never changed.

"With this month and last months payments, late fees included… sixteen-hundred rupees."

"Sixteen-hundred!?" Helen nearly fainted. Where in the world was she going to find sixteen-hundred rupees? "Master Terin, that is ridiculous, you cannot just jack up the price we agreed to on a whim. It's not right. no one in this forsake village could possibly afford that on such a short notice!"

"I can, and I will," Master Terin replied heartlessly. "You signed the agreement contract, Miss Helen, plain and simple in the eyes of the law. Those who can't afford it can move out. And if you cannot produce the money by tonight, then I fear you are going to have to pack up your things."

"Wait." Link held out at hand. "Let me see this this 'contract' you've mentioned."

"And who are you to ask for such sensitive documents?" Master Terin eyed Link up and down as if he was preparing to fend off an attack.

"This is my kind mother," Link replied, nodding to Helen. "And I will see to it that she is not mistreated under the eyes of the law, nor will she be mistreated under _my_ eyes." He took a step forward, coming nose to nose with the landlord, and spoke in a low unwavering tone. "I've heard your name whispered in spite across this village these last few days I've been here, Master Terin, there is not one good word to be spoken about you. Not one."

"You think I care what village fools think of me, boy?" Master Terin matched Link, glare for glare. "I have a business to run, and if you don't like it then you will have to take it up with the resident Knight of Necluda. But he will tell you the same thing: all's fair under the law." With a pompous tugged at his coat, the landlord bid them a curt goodbye and turned to leave. "Remember Helen, I expect payment by tonight."

"Do most of your clients know how to read, Master Terin?" The odd question made the persnickety landlord turn ponderously.

"Practically none. But I hardly care about that."

"You will." Now that was a promise that Helen hadn't the foggiest idea of what he meant, but given the storm plainly brewing in his brooding gaze, it was obvious that there was some sort of plan forming in his mind. Helen was almost too scared to ask what that plan was, but she prayed― _begged―_ whatever it was, wouldn't be violent.

When Master Terin was long gone Link carried on with his work, that brooding expression never slipping of his face even for a moment. Hefting the heavy wooden chest up over his shoulder, he took it out back behind the house where the soil was soft and muddy, and what he did next confused her beyond belief. So much so that for what must have been nearly ten minutes, Helen merely watched him soundlessly till at last she worked up the courage to speak.

"Why are you burying that chest?"

"Because I need to keep it safe for now," Link replied, as if that explained anything. He seemed far more focused on digging up a massive hole as quickly as possible. She looked to Mister Bruman for answers, but he just awkwardly wrung his soft cap between his knobby fingers and shrugged his shoulders.

"What's in it?"

"A Hinox's hoard." Without sparing much attention, Link kicked the lip of the chest open, revealing a jaw dropping display of shimmering blues and reds and gold… gemstones, rupees, diamonds. Helen's mouth hung wide open as she stammered for any sensible words.

"You should'a seen it, Miss Helen," Mister Bruman offered up, sounding rather wonderstruck. "He slew all three of them up on that mountain like it was nothing but cutting grass. They gave him a good whack or two, but they went down all the same, I tell you. He found all that gold and money just lying around in their treasure horde, though I don't know what he plans to do with all that. Who would have thought Hinox's liked gold and rupees?"

"You―" Airless sputtering was all she could produce with her lips. Hinox's! He killed three Hinox's! By the light of Hylia, Helen thought she would certainly pass out. To think of her baby boy going out willingly into trouble like that… well, she had half the mind to strangle him, that's what! He had no right going and getting himself into danger like that, and as his mother she was _not_ going to stand for it. No indeed.

"Bruman," Link said, scooping out a large handful of rupees from the opened chest, dumping it into his outstretched palms. The old geezer grew wide eyed as an owl in moonlight. "Go home and buy yourself new goats. Those Hinox's won't be bothering you or your herd again."

"Oh Link," Mister Bruman breathed, "I can't possibly take this… I'm just an old man with nothing―"

"Its alright, Bruman," Link reassured him, that stony expression giving way to a warm, genuine smile. "There's more than enough to go around. After all, there's at least three more chests buried up there anyways."

"Three more chests!?" Helen braced herself against the stone wall of her house. Surely, she was hallucinating, she thought. "What on earth do you plan to do with all… this!?"

"First off, I'm going to do some investigating. I want to see if there's something to be done with that… pig." No doubt he meant the landlord; Link threw his shovel down as if disgusted by the very thought of him. "After that I'm buying your house out, and anyone else's I can, if we're lucky." If it were possible, Helen's eyes grew even wider.

"What _can_ be done about Master Terin?" Bruman asked hesitantly, seemingly equally shocked as Helen. "I'm so far in the hole I don't think even my grandchildren will be free of him."

"I'm glad you asked, Mister Bruman," Link replied, dragging his bountiful horde into his freshly dug hole, dumping the dirt back over it. "For that I'm going to need your help. A favor, if you will."

"I'm in debt to you, my boy," Mister Bruman exclaimed, tugging his cap back over his balding head like a soldier preparing to march valiantly into any danger. "Say the word and I'll jump!"

With that said, Link began to lay out the weaving of his plan, leaving Helen rightfully, wonderfully speechless.

* * *

Muhahah, Link is getting devious :D

Hope you enjoyed, have a great weekend!

-Bold


	15. Chapter 15

-Prelude VII-

"Just you wait, I'll have you arrested by the Town Guard for this!"

What a sight it was to see that odious landlord running for his life as if he had never known a day of courage in all his years. He had just barely escaped the snapping jaws of Mister Millar's farm hounds when he offered that hateful threat, shaking his fist in the air as if it meant anything. Damn village fool, Terin thought to himself with a scoff. It was his fourth stop that morning to collect payment from the townsfolk of Hateno Village; his reception was hardly any better at the other three, but come rain or shine he was hard set on the task.

After all, he reassured himself, he was his lord's personal debt collector, chiefest and most trusted financial advisor to the Knight of Necluda―when he wasn't busy running his own business, of course.

Although, that title seemed to be bearing little weight if any today. Four times Master Terin had been run off, by dog or by muscle―that fool blond-headed boy the worst of the lot, he declared―and if things persisted, he really would have to call upon the Town Guard to start locking people up. _Bah!_ He hated the Town Guard, they were useless and spineless as worms, he declared. Always too drunk to hold a sword properly.

Regardless, he shook off the frustration with a tug at his coat and shoved a hand in his pocket to make sure his rupee purse had not fallen out in his dash to safety before making his way down the gravel road to his next debtor, Misses Galene. She was an old and ragged widower living in a decrepit run-down cottage, who by his count still owed exactly eight-hundred and seventy-three rupees this month and not a drop less. Not a drop less indeed. Master Terin smiled slyly, confident that he would certainly collect payment from her today; she had no dogs or brutish blond-headed spawn to chase him off, no indeed.

He pounded on her door with a closed fist, still smirking, but no answer came.

Again, he rapped on the door, louder and harder than the first time, yet no answer came. Could she have kicked the bucket, he wondered? Master Terin murmured a curse. That would be bad for business―it always was much harder to collect money from dead people or their next of kin… so much paper _extra_ paper work. Not that he was unwilling to do the work, money was money after all, it was just nice when it came easy.

 _Bang-bang-bang._ Again, no answer.

Sighing with vexation, Master Terin began making his way around the cottage to check in on his patron through the small and grimy windows, using the cuff of his shirt to clean a small circle to gaze through. An empty kitchen and living room greeted him, no Misses Galene in sight. Even when he peaked through her bedroom windows all there was to see was an empty bed and unlit candles.

"Confound it all," he cursed, tugging at the collar of his expensive coat and running a hand through his sleek charcoal hair. Where could the old hag be, he wondered? She never got out and about anymore. It was odd, but…

Well, the day was still young, he decided. Might as well make the best of it. There was no sense in just standing around, waiting on some old widower.

Strolling back down the road he came from, Master Terin targeted his next prey and chose his course, greedily rubbing the hefty purse clinking in his pocket, just to make sure it was still there. The sun was up, the sky was blue, and today was pay day. A good day to be a debt collector, he thought, and there was no one that was going to stop him.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

The Knight of Necluda

Sir Beyorn James never was a very applied man, he much preferred the closeness and comfort that the walls of his countryside estate provided. The stark paleness of his ageing skin, narrow cheeks, and a wiry unkempt beard served as a testament to that fact, but for all that he was not entirely blind to world. No, he had his fingers stretched wide and far into the land of Necluda through the facilities of his trusted advisors and men of service. Captains, guardsmen, village elders, and financiers alike were his eyes and ears. They did the reporting, and he did the commanding without ever having to leave the safety of his halls.

Odd behavior certainly, but that was how he preferred it.

Besides, he detested dealing with people outside of his small circle, which was probably why he never married. Too much nagging and senseless talk to be had with marriage, he thought, and children were even worse. Devilish little things, in his opinion.

No, Sir James was determined to be a bachelor to the bitter end, no matter what anyone said. He preferred life as it was. In the mornings he would arise and dress himself―couldn't trust a manservant to do the job right―and then sit down to a solitary breakfast which was left for him at his table, never a maid or cook in sight. From there it was usually an uneventful stroll to the parlor for a long, self-indulging smoke, where he would puff and sputter to his hearts content under the dim light of a single candle. He never liked opening curtains if it could be helped.

After that, it was off to his office, where it was merely a matter of attending to his usual work; signing paperwork, reading the intelligences provided to him in a neat stack on his desk every morning before he entered. They were usually very uneventful reports, mostly the common going on's of the village folk down in Hateno or troop orders at the main fort which guarded the Dueling Peaks pass. A few financials here, a few testimonies there, all in good order and punctuality. However, on one particular afternoon in the heat of summer, something very unusual happened.

A nervous knock came at his door.

"Who is it?" he said with a bit of a harsh bite, having not yet permitted entry.

"Its Mister Dale, sir." That was his butler.

"What do you want?"

"There's… well…" Mister Dale seemed at a loss for words, falling silent on the other side of the door.

"Spit it out man," Sir James said impatiently.

"There are villagers on the green, sir… they seem rather angry. They want to talk to you." That was very odd, Sir James thought. Sliding back his chair, the old Knight shuffled his way to the window that overlooked his front yard and pulled back the curtain just enough to get a glimpse outside. He flinched momentarily at the blinding light, but once his eyes had adjusted, he gazed in disbelief at a massive crowd gathered before his estate.

They all looked upset in their own right, the faces of the young and old alike contorted with frowns and furious scowls. Luckily they did not carry torches or pitchforks as if they meant to burn down his estate, but they were all certainly furious… except for one man. At the very front of the crowd there stood a snobby looking gentleman with a sleek coat and oily charcoal hair slicked back, bound with shackles around his wrists and two Town Guardsmen gripping tightly onto each arm so that he could not run away. Sir James recognized that terror-stricken prison instantly as none other than his trusted financial advisor and debt collector, Master Terin. The fool practically quivered in his boots.

"Mister Dale," Sir James barked, "alert the guards immediately! I want whoever is responsible for this uproar to be arrested! And get that fool Terin inside before the mob tears him in two."

"They have, sir," Mister Dale said with a trembling voice, "But Master Terin has been put under arrest by the Town Guard for charges of public deception and forgery of false information. There is nothing your guards can do unless they sense there is an immediate danger!"

"Are you blind man? Look! They've got him chained up and practically at spear point!" Sir James stomped over to the door to his office and tore it open, finding a very pale and shivering butler at the threshold, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead.

"Sir, I beseech you, they swear they come in peace and promise to release Master Terin if he is proven innocent of his crime. They only want to talk, Sir, I ask you to hear them out."

"Hear them out? Hear them out!?" Sir James was shouting well before he even exited the room, rolling down the dark halls of his estate like a torrential storm on the high seas. Like a banshee on the hunt he ran, and before long, his long morning robes were tossed aside and at his hip hung a longsword ready to fly from its sheath should the need arise.

Sir James was murmuring and cursing like a mad sailor after one two many drinks. Any servants that crossed his path nearly jumped out of their own skin at the sight of their master galloping past with a weapon at his side and dove into the nearest room to hide themselves from his terrifying and dangerous eyes.

"They dare come to my home, _my home!"_ With a slew of colorful blasphemies, the Knight of Necluda finally came to the front door of his estate, and with an exaggerated motion, wrenched it open, ready to face down each and every villager that dared step foot on his lawn. The guards on his staff were already assembled outside, ready to intervene if things became violent, but they kept their cautious distance.

"What is the meaning of this!?" He shouted, and the crowd fell deathly silent. His eyes scanned the lot of them like a rabid dog… they would dare come to his home and threaten _his_ men, would they? Well, Sir James had other ideas. "Come on then, you have called, and I am here! Spit it out you mewling goats!"

Whispers passed among the mob, the murmurings of a single name on there lips that was too quiet for the elderly Knight to hear.

"Sir Beyorn James," at last a voice called out steadily. The Knight's eyes snapped over directly to a young lad of golden hair as he stepped out in front of his peers. Unlike the other villagers, that boy's face was not twisted with anger or concern, it was merely firm as stone. "According to the laws of the land upheld by the King and his Chosen Knights of the Realm, we the people of Hateno Village hereby accuse your personal financial advisor, Master Terin, of thirty-eight counts of public deception and the forgery of legally binding contracts. Under the eyes of the law, many of the villagers of Hateno have been subjected to unfair treatment at the hands of Master Terin, their serving landlord, who has extorted and lied to them on the basis of the payments of their debts on land, equipment, and medical resources." The young man held up what seemed to be a large roll of battered and old paper deeds nearly as thick as his arm.

"In each and every one of these contracts signed by both Master Terin and the individual parties of this village, there are countless violations of fundamental rights given to them as citizens of Hyrule in one form or another. Either by unannounced or mutually agreed upon amendments and alterations, or the falsifying of information under the pretense of intentional verbal misconduct on the part of Master Terin. With full knowledge, Master Terin has lied to and deceived these good people, taking advantage of their widespread illiteracy to extend previously agreed upon terms, increase previously agreed upon interest rates, and issue excessive fees and taxes while remaining under the guise of a law-abiding and fair businessman."

For a moment Sir James felt dry in the mouth, unsure as to what to say. He tried to catch Master Terin's eyes, but he was too ashamed to meet his gaze. This was not good, not good at all. Shame in that greedy fool's eyes meant that this ridiculous _claim_ had merit.

Unfortunately, a situation like this required tact, as much Sir James he hated to admit it; there was nothing more excruciatingly irritating that dealing with common fools and narrow-headed villages. But when it came down to it there was work to be done, and he was not one to shy away from what need finishing.

"You, boy," Sir James said. "Who are you? What brings you to these lands, stirring up trouble like this?"

"I am just a simple traveler, sir," he replied politely, but not exactly warmly. "A traveler just returned home to find his neighbors being abused and mistreated. That is all."

"A traveler, eh?" Sir James very much doubted that. Oh, the boy certainly looked like a traveler, given the rough and dirty appearance of his tunic, and that longbow strung over his shoulder, but he was far too eloquent to be a common traveler. And his eyes and mannerisms―the way he moved and carried himself―were the clear signs of someone who had been educated… trained. "I will speak to you in private, boy, with Master Terin. The rest of this…" he waved lazily to the mob of villagers. "They will vacate my property, or I will set the guards on them for trespassing."

"Thank you, sir," the young man replied, bowing slightly as a proper show of gratitude to a Knight. It was a crisp and disciplined bow. Yes, he was certainly not a common man.

Sir James watched silently from the patio of his front door as the young golden-haired boy spoke softly among the mob of villagers―they hung on to his every word with commendable focus―until at last slow nods passed among them and the began to slowly retreat down the hill outside of the gate and not a step further. Master Terin was left under the boy's care, and was escorted up the steps of the estate with a firm grip.

"Mister Dale, prepare the parlor. And bring a good brandy."

"Yes sir."

* * *

The boy had patience, that was for certain. Usually, Sir James found that prolonged, _agonizing_ silence made the common man squirm with discomfort till he would either look away and occupy his mind with trivial things like tapping his foot or counting the tiles on the floor, or he would pipe up some nonsense just to break the deafening quiet… but that boy held his gaze as firmly and as unwaveringly as a wolf stalking its prey, silent and capable of the kill.

Not much of a drinker it seemed, however. Even though a glass of brandy had been poured for him, not a drop of it came to his lips. He just sat in defiant silence, deep blue eyes analyzing every inch of Sir James' demenor.

Silence ensued till it grew so quiet that Sir James could hear his own heartbeat. A soft _boom-boom… boom-boom_ in the cavity of his chest. The clock on his mantle place seemed to grow in strength too, with an ear drumming _tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock._

"So." At last the Knight's voice cracked like a whip, shattering the veil of silence. "You believe this serves as proof?" He held the roll of decades old deeds and signed contracts at eye level. There were significant anomalies and inconsistencies for certain, and a slew of other code violations, but he wasn't going to give the boy credit for that just yet… not until he learned his motives.

"I do, sir." _Silence._

"Sir," Master Terin said with a trembling voice, "I can explain… don't… don't believe anything this rat says―"

"You will hold your tongue, Master Terin," Sir James growled. "I am not addressing you right now." With a swish of his brandy, Sir James turned his attention back to the boy. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Link, sir."

"Just Link?" His eyebrow rose critically.

"Yes sir."

"You certainly don't speak much like a simple village man, nor a simple traveler." Sir James noticed no change in the boy's face. "You are too young to be a proper soldier in the army, much less so an officer. And it is obvious you at least have a basic understanding of our kingdom's laws and mandates. Where are you from? Who educated you?"

"With all due respect, sir," Link began plainly, "We did not come here to discuss my upbringing."

"No. We did not." The boy had a sense of strategy at least. He was no fool. That was good, Sir James hated dealing with fools. "Here is how I see the situation, just Link. For nearly forty-years years I have been the overseer and commandant of Necluda and its people, and at least thirty of those years Master Terin has served as my regional financial advisor―when he isn't running his business as a landlord. Through him I have know the in's and out's of Hateno to the very last rupee." He paused and downed the rest of his drink. "And yet in those thirty years not a single complaint has come to my ears from those villagers about unfair treatment… not a whine, not a whimper. Thirty years of silence… all until you showed up."

There was not even a hint of change in the boy's face.

"As I'm sure you understand this gives me considerbal cause to be rather cautious of a stranger from an unknown origin, rallying my subordinates to stage a mob on my doorstep with _my_ advisor in chains and at spearpoint." Sir James leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. "I, by every right, should have you arrested on charges on instigating mass hysteria, boy. I know Master Terin, and I know my people. But I do _not_ know you. You will forgive me. It would only be natural that I trust what I know, instead of something foreign and unknown."

"And yet you haven't arrested me," the boy replied, not rudely, merely as a matter of fact. "You haven't because you have seen the falsities contained in those documents…. Were I lying to you I would already be locked up and awaiting a formal charge, but I am not lying, and neither are the townsfolk of Hateno." He paused thoughtfully.

"Sir James, you know as well as anyone that the law must be upheld to the fullest extent. That is your duty, your responsibility as a Knight of Hyrule. All we ask is that a formal investigation is performed. These are your people, Sir James, your responsibility, the very backbone of the land you own. Do not sell them short by allowing this man to cheat and mislead them."

"Do not try to win me over with honied words, boy," Sir James said harshly. "I do not take kindly to useless flatteries. Now, as to what you have requested―"

" _We_ have requested, Sir," Link interrupted, correcting. "Forgive me, Sir. I am merely the voice they have chosen to represent them."

"So, you played no part in rallying them up, eh?" Sir James laughed mockingly. "Spare me the lie, boy. I know you had a part in all this. For better or for worse you are the one that inspired them to take action, there is no denying that." As before, Link's expression remained unchanged. Sighing, Sir James leaned back into his chair, waving at his butler to refill his drink. He spoke very hoarsely then. "Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain from it?"

There was a long pause, but with utter surety the boy said, "I am doing this because Master Terin drove my mother out of her own home once. And she has suffered unimaginable pains because of it… I will not let it happen again, on Hylia's name I will not."

So, the boy sought to save his mother, Sir James thought with a mild sneer. How predictably dull. Naive and overly sentimental as it was though―in Sir James' opinion of course―the boy was telling the truth. He could see it in the his eyes, sense it in his tone of voice.

"Very well, young Link. You have convinced me. I will go through with a proper investigation, and we will see once and for all if Master Terin is guilty as you have claimed. Until then, he will be put under lock and key, and all current debts of the people of Hateno will be frozen.

"If he is proven to be guilty, then all current debts will be reevaluated by a replacement landlord, who I will hire at my discretion, and they will have to pay out the remainder of the principal amounts their original contracts agreed upon before any amendments were made. And," he stuck out a finger to emphasize his point. "If he is found to be proven innocent, then I will have you arrested for disturbing the peace and exploiting the citizens of Hateno. Does that sound fair?"

Horror struck Master Terin's already sweaty and pale face, as if he were ready to faint, but he at least kept his mouth shut. For now. Especially when Sir James eyed him up like a hawk circling its next meal.

Fool man, he thought.

"It will be fair on one condition, Sir," Link replied evenly. "If Master Terin _is_ found to be guilty, then at your discretion, a fair interest rate on all currents debts must be enacted across every liability currently incurred by the citizens of Hateno, replacing the old rates put into place by Master Terin. Should the difference be in those rates favor of the citizens of Hateno, then that extra money will be awarded back to the people so that they may tackle their debt faster."

"But Sir!" Master Terin finally cried, having squirmed in bitter silence long enough. "That is madness, you cannot―"

"Do you think this outburst helps your case, Master Terin?" Sir James seethed. "If anything, it tarnishes any bare resemblance of innocence you possess as of this moment. Now you will keep your lips sealed or I will seal them for you!" Turning to Link at last, Sir James stood with an indignant huff and said, "Very well, boy. It will be done. But you keep yourself out of trouble with the people of Hateno, I do not tolerate troublemakers. I will not hesitate you have you incarcerated, do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, sir." Link answered, standing confidently and bowing. "Thank you, sir."

"Good. Now get out of my sight."

And so, as the sun set on the little village of Hateno that night, Link relayed all that had been said and promised to his mother and their neighbors, and collectively they held their breaths, fingers crossed and silent prayers on their lips, praying that they would be at last have the chance to be set free from their debts.

* * *

Link is flexing his mind on these unsuspecting jerks, its always a pleasure.

I hope you enjoyed, my lovely readers, I hope this chapter wasn't too boring. I promise, things will pick up eventually.

-Bold


	16. Chapter 16

-Prelude VIII-

"Have you heard the news?"

That was the cry that echoed through every street of Hateno Village in the late summer of Link's return home. For nearly two months they had waited to hear the results of Mister Terin's trial and at last the day had come. The whole village rejoiced when the answer finally came.

"Master Terin is found guilty!"

A cheer arose among the people, for it meant that at last they stood a real fighting chance at free themselves from the debts that once crippled them and forced them from their homes and starved their families… at last they could stand and be free.

Of course, it wouldn't be easy, there was still mortgages to be paid, and loans to be settled, but with the promised returns from interest given back to the people the crushing burden didn't seem so crushing now.

Yes, the village folk of Hateno slept well that night. As well as they had slept in years, and when they awoke, they all spoke among themselves on how they were going to rid themselves entirely of the debts that once crippled them. And when their planning and scheming had been done, they went out into the fields and out into the markets with renewed vigor and a dogged persistence… hope! They would be free someday… that was their mantra. They _would_ be free.

Surprisingly however, that freedom came far sooner than they ever could have expected.

It was in the later days of that same summer, just shy of autumn, that something rather peculiar began happening across the village. Something wonderfully, _extraordinarily_ odd. Someone, or something began leaving money at their doorsteps, and in the exact amounts according to their debts. Not a rupee more, not a rupee less.

It began first with the farmers, who generally had the worst dues of the bunch, and then later passed on to the marketeers and shop owners and common working man. One by one, and seemingly at random, money would come to them in a nondescript box or bag with no name, no return address, and not a deliverer in sight. A most peculiar thing indeed.

Rumors and gossip began to spread like wildfire about the occurrence, as if it were miracles sent from above. Intrigued by the whole affair, young and curiously wild-hearted villagers began to wait out on their porches to catch a glimpse of this mystery gift giver that was bringing them such extravagant gifts to their doorsteps, and yet despite their best efforts the whoever it was remained continually anonymous.

Some attributed the gifts to be blessings from Hylia herself, others from the ancient Spirit Guardians of the land, but most attributed the surprise―and immensely generous―gifts to their resident ranger-for-hire and hardworking handy man, Link, the same lad who fought so diligently to see to it that Master Terin was put behind bars in the first place, but he denied all claims. He swore that he hadn't even the foggiest idea of who could go to such extremes to free his fellow man from his debts.

"I would if I could," Link would say as straight as an arrow, "but I barely have enough money to help pay for my mother's home, much less everyone else's."

He had become quite a proficient liar in the years he spent serving his father's house.

However, much to Link's discomfort, that lie didn't hold out forever. It was nearly four years later, on a cool evening, that a young girl fetching water from the nearby well just outside the brick wall of their home caught a glimpse of a hooded figure carrying a small crate over his shoulder, walking right up to their front door. The strange visitor looked left, and then right, as if he wanted to be sure no one was looking before he dropped the crate at his feet. And just as he turned to slip away unannounced the young girl met eyes with the hooded visitor, pleasantly suprised to find Link looking back at her.

She recognized him in an instant. After all, he had spent many long days at their home, helping her father with the livestock out in the pasture―cattle mostly―and even running a few errands for her mother when she needed a cup of sugar from the market or an obstinate window opened and waxed.

"Mister Link," she said, "whats in that box? Is it something my mama wanted?"

"I suppose so, in a way," Link replied warmly, tugging on the tip of his hood to hide his face better. "Best I get going, Dona…" He paused thoughtfully before setting out, as if he was hesitant on what to say. "If your mama asks about the crate, just tell her a friend sent it. Can you do that for me?"

"I think I can," the girl answered with a sweet smile, waving to her kind neighbor as he struck off at a brisk pace down the cobble street, disappearing around the corner as his cloak trailed loosely behind him.

Of course, when Dona's mother uncovered what was in the crate later that evening, she could hardly hold the truth in, and in a moment of excitement, blurted out the truth.

At last, the town's mystery man had been caught red handed.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen

The Spring Festival

The little village of Hateno bloomed like a radiant flower when the dawn of a new spring came. The air was fresh and brimming with excitement now that the snows of winter had long since melted away, bringing the tidings of new life and the prospects of a better future just waiting around the next corner. A time for rejoicing, a cause for celebration, a flood of warmth to the spirit. Springtime was when the rivers seemed just right for swimming, the soil dark and rich enough for planting, and the trees and grass growing in every imaginable shade of green; a painter's dream in the making.

Naturally, there was no better time to hold a festival than in spring.

And a festival the villagers of Hateno would have! The little girls and young women would tie sky blue ribbons in their hair, or pin delicate springtime flowers just above their ears to complement their brightly colored sun-dresses, the boys and young men would don their best springtime knickers and cleanest shirts―taking careful note to comb their unruly locks and secure every button lest they incur the wrath of strict mothers―and the grownups would take an arm around their partner to bring them close while the fiddler fiddled and the piper pipped jubilant songs out in the town square that would make even the most stoic and boring tap a foot to the rhythm and smile like a fool.

Well, almost everyone, at least.

The inns and shops were closed down too―better for it, many thought; it kept the more… _unsavory_ business from conducting trade as usual―and in the absence of the common hustle and bustle of village commerce there came the crowds and loud noises of a spectacular show of merry making, set alight with small Sheikah styled paper lanterns and those delicately prepared sparklers, bringing warmth to town with an inviting glow. Even as the sun would set in the evening, the merrymaking would go on well into the night, and the fiddlers and pipers would continue to lead the people in age old jigs and dances passed down from generation after generation of farmers and village marketeers.

In short, there was a lot of fun to be had at the Springtime Festival in that merry little town of Hateno.

And tonight would be a special a night above all others, for at last, down to the every last man, woman, and happy family, that little village of Hateno would celebrate at last its freedom from the debts of their past. Mortgages, loans, just about anything you could name, all was finally put away with. And all thanks to one very peculiar but extraordinary young man.

The crowd cheered and applauded when the Mayor of Hateno, Mister Jovani, made his way up to the stage built specially for the festival, waving and laughing with rosy cheeks as he prepared to make the first speech of the new season―it was a silly tradition, with an even sillier man to uphold it, but they had held dear to it for countless years, and wouldn't have it any other way.

Now, Mister Jovani was a rather eccentric man with long unruly hair that curled at the end so that his head appeared to be shaped like an oversized bell, and his belly, which had begun to slouch over his belt throughout the years, never seemed to stay where it should beneath that tight fitting blouse of his. But the people of Hateno hardly seemed to notice anymore, or at least they didn't care. After all, his job was to make excellent speeches, not look pretty.

And make a speech he did. A rather long one that I will not bore you with every detail of, it was mostly nonsense about how proud he was of his 'little villagers' for another winter weathered successfully and with great courage, but needless to say, in his alcohol-tipped words of rejoice and overly fond good wishes, Mister Jovani finally closed out his speech by saying:

"And at last, the moment I'm sure you have all been waiting for has finally arrived, the grand finale, our presentation of the Greatest Village of the Year Award!" He bowed like a showman, a very proud showman at that, to the roar of applauds from the merry folk of Hateno.

"The votes are in, and the ballots counted, ladies and gentlemen. At last we have our winner." The crowd cheered, needing a little time and exuberant hushing gestures before they quieted enough for Mister Jovani to continue. "Over the last four years I'm sure you have all come to know this young man by one way or another as a helping hand or a safety line to pull you out when the mud got too thick―and a friendly face if I do say so―so I should not need to give him a proper introduction…" Jovani hiccuped, then continued. "But where's the fun in that!? Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you, Hateno's finest ranger, farmer, handyman, errand boy, investor and bailer―just about every type of man you could imagine―and very, very dear friend of the whole village of Hateno! You know him by name, the ladies love him by face, the landlord hates him for putting him out of business, the old geezers adore him like a grandson, the young boys look up to him, the Town Guard―"

"Get on with it!" the crowd practically shouted in unison. Sometimes Jovani could drag on too long.

"Oh alright!" the Mayor huffed indignantly. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the one and only, Miiiiister Link!" Jovani made an extravagant motion to gesture to the stage stairs where a small curtain was drawn closed, clearly expecting the man of the hour to appear to accept his standing ovation with immense gratitude… however, he never came.

"Ehm…. I said, I present to you the one and only, Mister Link!" Jovani repeated the ridiculous motion, but again, Link didn't appear. "Oh Liiiiink, get up here!" Again, and again Mister Jovani tried to summon the village hero with every touch of bedazzled showmanship his short statured body could manage, and yet it seemed the man of the hour was a clear-cut case of no-tell no-show.

The only thing was, Link _was_ there, just not where anyone could see him.

A rare amused smile was on his lips as he watched the confused crowd from the dark rooftop of the inn overlooking the town square. It was where he had specifically chosen to hide ever since the sun had set earlier that evening, making sure to bring a small leather satchel stuffed full of hot food after a successful clandestine raid of the dinner tent. Link popped a cherry into his mouth with a grin that I daresay was just barely on the cusp of smug.

Just barely.

Now, I cannot say with absolute certainty _why_ Link chose to sneak off and hide himself that night―he wasn't a very forthcoming lad, less so with every year that passed―but if I had to guess, there were two very distinct reasons for his intentional absence. Firstly, despite the collected and confident manner in which he always carried himself in when in the presence of others, I concluded that Link was surprisingly a rather shy individual at heart. Or at least he was very prone to feeling uncomfortable when more than one pair of eyes were on him.

It was a small thing to notice, really, but he behaved differently when he was by himself. The muscles in his back appeared looser and more relaxed, his movements comfortable and calm, and even a smile seemed far easier to come by too, even if it was brief or simple. A pretty birdsong overhead, a playful sheep nuzzling his leg in the pasture, a sleek fox darting across the path before tucking into its den… he smiled at simple things often when he was alone. But never in the company of others. No, he would be straight as an arrow then.

Secondly, I also believe that the teachings of his father warning him against vanity and self-served recognition had been rooted so deeply into mind that it could never be forgotten even if he tried. Things that needed doing should be done swiftly and effectively, without mention or thought of reward; that's how Sir Hamish always saw it. The sense of fulfillment for duty and responsibility was the only reward worth striving for… and that line of thinking made it difficult to receive any external recognition.

'Never sound your own trumpet for all to see and hear when you extend a hand to help a fallen stranger up,' he would always say, 'nothing worthwhile can come from doing good deeds just for the praise. After all, any fool can blow his own horn before the battle, but it takes a true man to keep his mouth shut and eyes level when it's time to do his part.' Vanity _always_ impeded true success, he said.

A strange and profound man, that long-gone Knight of Crenel was.

But, regardless of whatever reasons Link hid himself up on the rooftop, he seemed far more content to be up there enjoying his well-earned treats than down on that stage. And so, for the rest of the night as he shoveled slices of apple pie and cuts of tender lightly salted pork into his mouth with hums of satisfaction and watched as the people of Hateno as they danced and drank to their hearts' desire, celebrating the final arrival of a long-awaited spring.

And with the coming of spring, so too would news from the north come; a decree from the King himself, calling upon every able-bodied man in all Hyrule… a decree that would forever change the weave of the grand tapestry of Time.

A decree that would see to the fulfillment of a prophecy of impending doom.

* * *

 _What came before will come again and come again it will:_

 _The Blood, the Sword, the Curse renewed,  
_ _The Blood, the Sword; Malice will ensue_

* * *

Sorry for the shorter and slightly boring chapter, this is more of a set up for the chapters to come, I promise it will get better!

Thank you all, as always!

-Bold


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

News from the North

Sitting by their meager fire, Link and his mother enjoyed the peaceful quiet of the late afternoon having finished their dinner; a hearty meal of dumpling soup, Link's favorite meal by chance. And with full bellies they busied themselves with trivial work, now that there was little else to do. The kitchen was cleaned and organized―that squeaky cabinet door that always annoyed Helen had finally oiled at last―and the fence that Link had been mending at Mister Bruman's farm all that morning and afternoon had it last few nails hammered into place to his liking. All in a good day's hard work.

Helen was altering the hem of one of her client's dresses, taking careful note to make sure her stitching remained perfectly straight, and Link had brought in his wide-bladed foresting axe and was sharpening it against a whetstone, though the long sword that he had bought and tucked away under the stairs had remained relatively untouched for nearly two years, staying just as sharp as the last time he took it to the stone.

It seemed that ever since he felled those giants up on the mountain all that was really left to swing was his axe.

His bow still got good use, however. There was always a nice bird for the hunting, or even a wild boar or deer that would fetch a fair price at the market, and Link's aim seemed to be as impeccable as ever. By all accounts, our little Hero seemed to have at last settled down and grow accustom to the simplicities of village life and was quite content with swinging an axe than swinging a sword.

Sadly, however, it would not always be so.

"Do you have any work lined up tomorrow, Link?" Helen's mother asked warmly, stretching her fingers out to the fire.

"Talon asked if I could help the Ferrier tomorrow," Link replied, eyes never leaving his work. "One of their jumpier horses is being fitted, and he needed an extra hand to keep her calm."

"Is it that beautiful pony with the reddish coat?" She had seen that wild little thing galloping across the fields as proudly as any warhorse ever could, silly thing.

Link nodded and said, "Her name is Epona. She's timid around strangers, but we'll get her broken in someday."

"I'm sure you will," Helen replied, returning to her neat stitching, a smirk forming on her lips. "Oh, make sure you say hello to Malon, dear." Link's axe froze against the whetstone for a second, then continued. "She's soft on you, you know? Talon said so himself."

"I know."

"And?" Helen's smirk grew bigger, eyebrow rising as she waited for Link to look up. However, he merely shrugged his shoulders and ground away at the blade of his axe. Typical Link, Helen thought. He always grew tongue tied when he felt embarrassed… of course she knew, she was his mother after all. It always was either a shrug of the shoulders or a nervous scratching on the back of his neck. That stony-faced mask of his had no effect on her, no indeed. Helen could see right through it like any mother should, and that was that!

"Well, she is a sweet girl," Helen pressed on. "It's just something keep in mind, dear. Sweet girls are always the first to be swooped up. And you're nearly twenty, after all, it's time to start thinking about those types of things. Can't spend the rest of your life hunting and mending fences, now can you?"

On que, Link scratched the back of his neck. Good. At least he would think about it.

"Well, looks like that's done." Cutting the excess thread from her work, Helen lifted the dress sitting in her lap to make sure her hem hadn't gone awry or crooked, and when she was pleased with the results, she neatly folded it into a bundle and place it beside the other pile of clothes beside her.

"Link, would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please," he answered kindly, testing the sharpness of his axe against the hairs on his arm.

When Helen stood to catch the kettle from the kitchen, but as soon as she was on her feet something churned in her stomach and chest, and an abrupt fit of coughs over took her, racking her whole body as she covered her mouth. It happened so suddenly, starting with a few small ones before escalating in a full-blown outburst, and before long she was doubled over just struggling to breath. Link rushed to her side with a worried frown and began helping her stand up straight and patting and rubbing her back to help her work through the attack. It took several minutes for the pain in her core to subside and the coughing to cease.

When Helen uncovered her mouth, there was a drop of blood on the palm of her hand.

"So soon?" she sighed gloomily. "It's not even winter yet." This certainly wasn't her first fit of coughs. Far from it actually. For nearly eight years she would develop a terrible cough as soon as the cold air of winter would roll in from the sea, but this was the first time he had come this early. A bit of bad luck, she surmised.

"I'll run into town and get your usual medicine," Link said, helping her sit back down as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood off her palm. This wasn't the first time they had been through this charade either, but Link never seemed any less concerned than the first time. It always was one of the rare times that he outwardly looked worried.

The village doctor never could determine exactly what caused the coughs, he only knew that it came somewhere from the stomach and lungs, given the discoloration and consistency of the blood she coughed up, and of course the pain in her core. But outside of that, there was little that he knew of that could be done. Helen just had to suffer through till the next spring when the air would grow warmer, when at least the coughing would go away. Her stomach never felt quite right though. It always was bothersome but manageable.

When Helen finally felt well enough to be on her own Link slipped on his boots and belt pouch before striking off into the center of town, promising to be back soon. The shop owners and marketeers were closing up by then as the light of day grew dim and cool, but many waved and greeted Link as he passed. They always were keen on speaking with him ever since the whole Spring Festival thing, but today he cordially excused himself as swiftly as possible, making his way to the apothecary on the edge of the town square.

Link was hailed by name as soon as he stepped in through the door by a large brooding wide-shouldered man, a shaman by the name of Renado.

"A little early for you, is it not Mister Link? You usually don't show up till the first freeze of winter." Renado dipped his head solemnly before turning back to the row of class paned cabinets behind his counter, his long black trusses of hair swinging in unison to his movements. The vials and large bottles he had on stock all rattled and clattered as he cracked open one of the doors to retrieve a small tonic in a reddish glass container.

"It is early, unfortunately," Link agreed, digging out a red rupee from his belt pouch and placing it on the counter.

"Keep it," Renado said, sliding both the tonic and rupee back to Link. "After everything you've done for this village, this one is on the house. Give your mother my best wishes."

"Thank you, Renado, I will." Taking both items in hand, Link turned to leave.

The village lanterns were just being lit as he stepped out onto the street. The lamplighter, a young lad by the name of Oliver, was balancing precariously from his step stool and nearly fell when he saw Link walking past, but he managed to stabilize himself before jumping down and ran to meet him. The boy looked up to Link with wide yet timid eyes; he idolized the man who saved their village, naturally.

"Mister Link," he said, tugging on the soft cap that sat atop his head, stepping with a wide gait to keep up. "Did you hear about what happened in town today? Mister Link?" Link gave a start, as if he were snapping out of a daze and only just now realized Oliver was walking beside him.

"What's that, Oliver?" he asked.

"I said did you hear about what happened in town today?"

"No."

"You didn't?" the boy exclaimed, a wide grin stretching across his lips. "Why, a whole cavalry of soldiers rode in right before dinner time with a decree from the King himself!"

"Really?" Link's eyebrow rose.

"I swear it happened, there was a whole lot of them, with armor and swords to boot, Mister Link! I want to be a soldier like that someday, can you teach me how to use a sword?" Oliver opened his mouth again to ask a whole list of questions along the lines of 'can you do this,' or 'can you teach me that,' but before he could begin, Link spoke.

"What did they want?"

"They said that they're looking for someone to pull the Master Sword from its pedestal! They pinned up a decree from the King in the square after the soldiers read it out loud. It's up on the bulletin board by the Mayor's office, though most of us can't read it. But you can! Come one I'll show you!" Oliver tugged on Link's hand, signaling him to follow, but he didn't budge from his course.

"I don't have a lot of time right now, Oliver," Link said plainly, patting the lad on shoulder. "Maybe tomorrow."

"But Mister Link, don't you want to try? I bet you'd pull it free on the first try! I heard you killed those giant mountain Hinox's that kept stealing Mister Bruman's goats all by yourself. If that doesn't make you worthy of the Master Sword, then I don't know what will."

"To be honest, I thought the Master Sword was more of a fairy tale than anything else, Oliver," Link admitted. "But I'm sure if the King knows what he's about, they'll find whoever their looking for."

"But Mister Link, the King's decree is ordering that every able-bodied man over the age of ten is to be tested. Even I will get a chance try to pull the Sword free!" The very thought of it enthralled the young boy. "The soldiers said they would be back tomorrow with wagons to start shipping people out if they don't have a horse to ride." Finally, Link halted, and turned to face Oliver head on. It was the first time he had ever seen the village hero look angry.

"They ordered it?" He sounded appalled by the notion. "That is ridiculous. I can't just pack up and go tug on some silly sword, I've got to take care of my mother… and the other men have families to feed!"

"What's wrong with your mom?" Oliver asked with genuine concern, but Link either ignored the question or didn't hear it. His back was already turned as he briskly marched back in the direction of the Mayor's office. Oliver had to run to keep up, and no amount of questions seemed to stir Link from his distracted ponderings.

Soon enough, however, Link and Oliver, and a few of the other villagers who _could_ read were all crowding around the large statement written in clear ink against white parchment, carefully reading over its contents.

 _By order and decree of his Majesty, King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule,_

 _All able-bodied Hylian men, from the ages of ten to forty, are hereby ordered to await processing and recording by the Regent Knight preceding over them with the assistance of the local militia or army protecting its borders. At the discretion of said Knight, every male that fits the criteria will be assessed and then sent out by any means necessary to the Temple of Time, located southwest of Hyrule Castle, where they will be given the opportunity to test themselves against the long-fabled blade of our ancestors. The Master Sword._

 _Should compensation be required for work and profit lost…_

It went on for several more paragraphs about the minute details, but the straight and simple fact of it was there in clear writing. Every man of able-body was to be tested. For what reason this was to be done or what would happen to the man that did pull the Sword of Evil's Bane from its pedestal, the decree did not say, but it was there and signed by the King himself.

"And you said the soldiers would return tomorrow?" Link asked, almost disbelievingly.

"Yes, Mister Link," Oliver answered sheepishly. "Mister Jovani said so. He says he has to help organize the whole thing. The couriers are already hard at work going house to house to tell everyone. They must have missed your house… Mister Link, what are you going to do?" Link thought about that answer for a long while, his eyebrows tying themselves in knots as he puzzled it out, staring emptily at the small tonic vial in the palm of his hand.

"There's nothing I can do," he sighed. "I guess we'll just have to make do."

* * *

Later that night, as the news of what was to come in the morning spread, angered wives and frustrated husbands argued over what was to be done while they were away. Who would take care of the livestock? Who would see to the tilling? Who would see to the shop, the booth, or the building? It wasn't a long ride to the Temple of Time, but even two or three days of absence wasn't going to be easy to manage when nearly a quarter of the village would be gone at a time.

And so, deep into the night they all planned and planned, and when the soldiers came the next day every man, ages ten to forty, lined up in the streets of Hateno Village, and waited to be counted and recorded then either sent home with orders to return later, or loaded up on wagons and sent out. The first day it was ten wagons loaded to the brim with men, and when they returned three days later, another ten, until the very last group―Link's group, by chance―was loaded up and sent on the long and bumpy road to the central of Hyrule, where a sword of legendary origin awaited them.

All it needed was the right pair of hands to free it.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

The Sword of Evil's Bane

"Sire, it's time." The footman bowed slightly after entering.

Sir Nigel Horwell sighed heavily as he stood from his makeshift breakfast table, rubbing the drooping bags under his eyes. Eight weeks they had been performing the same pointless ritual from dawn till dusk, and yet the elusive Hero to be chosen by the Sword had still yet to be found. Sir Horwell was beginning to wish the King had never tasked him with such a monumental task; how could one possibly hope to facilitate such a thing as testing every able-bodied man against the Master Sword and not lose his sanity? The logistics alone of such an operation were enough to drive even the most stable-minded man insane. Not to mention the money that was being wasted to transport and feed everyone.

And yet, day in and day out it was nothing more than a constant flow of mere village boys and browbeaten common fools that tugged helplessly on that damned blade, and none had come any closer than all the noble Knights and soldiers of the realm.

Was there any hope, he wondered? What if the signs had been wrong? What if that Sheikah fortune teller had been lying all along? Surely if the Calamity was _really_ returning then the goddesses would have delivered to them a man worthy of bearing that blade, instead bringing forth this horrendous mess. It was preposterous, he thought.

But, as a Knight in service to his King, a Knight of the Royal Guard no less, Sir Horwell was sworn to bear the burden. And so, donning his sword at his hip, Sir Horwell set out from his quarters set aside in a back room of the Temple of Time, face awash with gauntness of a man terribly deprived of a proper sleep.

Eight weeks. He mulled the number around in his head. How many more weeks must he search? Already they had rallied and tested the men from the Lanayru and Tabantha provinces, soldier, Knight, and commoner alike, but there came no Chosen Hero from there, and now they were in the midst of searching central Hyrule, Castle Town, Hateno, and beyond.

"The registrar's table has been prepared already, Sire," Sir Horwell's footman explained, holding the door open for him as he passed through.

"Thank you. That will be all," the Knight replied somberly. "Let's get this over with."

It was a short walk to the amphitheater just before the main central dais of the Temple of Time―a tranquil sight really―if it weren't muddled and crowded up by hundreds of frustrated and testy men from the far reaches of the land. They always were testy, naturally.

It had been a long and uncomfortable ride to say the least for those men. The whole ordeal often lacked severely in any sense of punctuality and organization. Even as they reached the gates of the Great Plateau their great discomfort never seemed to dissipate, it was only added to or replaced by another. First it was the cramped and hot wagons that jolted and bounced across the gravel roads and cobbled bridges that brought them there, and then the cramped and murmuring crowds of hundreds of hungry, bored, and irritated Hylian men. From common farmer from Hateno and Mabe to the wealthy merchant from Castle Town and beyond, forced into groups like cattle to be herded, all were waiting for their name to be called from the registrar's table, and none seemed very happy about it.

At least, no one with even a modicum of their senses was happy about it. There were of course always a few men among their numbers that boasted and bragged on themselves, claiming that _they_ would wrench the Sword free from its pedestal as easily as lifting a loose feather from the ground, and claim the glory of being dubbed the Hero of Hyrule, as if freeing that blade was a portent of good favor. Even some of the countless soldiers running the whole operation seemed to spur on the conversation, though they had certainly already tried pulling the Master Sword for themselves.

They were all fools.

With a long sigh, Sir Horwell sat at the registrars table along side his scribe and assistant, formally beginning the same ritual he had performed for eight weeks straight.

"Ali, of Romani Plains," Sir Horwell called the first name on the list, and a small boy no older than twelve stepped forward, his shaggy mess of brown hair nearly covering his nervous eyes. The boy briefly glanced back to an older man, assumingly his father, with an expression wanting of courage, and with a silent understanding passing between them he allowed himself to be led to the central dais by a lone guard.

The Master Sword waited there dauntingly for the young boy, offering a silent challenged that had yet to be beaten by any man yet, great or small, despite Sir Horwell's best efforts.

The covered his eyes with a small trembling hand as he stepped close. The morning sun casted golden shafts of light into the dusty chamber of the temple, catching the mirror like radiance of the Master Sword's blade and reflected it back into the boy's face. Of course, Sir Horwell noted this with a hint of mild boredom… it wasn't first time that had happened. He humored himself by taking it as a sign already that the boy would not even come close to freeing the Sword from its pedestal. _Typical._

But the boy persisted and wrapped his small fingers around the hilt of the Master Sword and gave it a fair tug. On que, the boy leapt back with a yelp of pain, hands clutching at his chest as if his heart had seized up inside his chest.

The Sword hadn't budged in the slightest. Another failure. Probably for the best. That _boy_ wasn't going to be slaying monsters or hunting down world-ending beasts anytime soon. The thought was almost comical. Almost.

"Allen, of Mabe Village," Sir Horwell continued, and another answered. This time it was a brutish looking man whose massive shoulders and heavy build spoke of a Blacksmith, or perhaps a Ferrier, if he had to guess. The man approached the dais, and like the boy, gripped onto the hilt of the Master Sword and pulled. He leapt back as if his hands had been burned.

Another failure.

"Aron of Castle Town, Arthur of Castle Town… Brandon… Braxton… Charles…" the list went on and on, each and every man taking increasingly worried steps towards the dais. Some put up an admirable fight, straining themselves till they nearly passed out, and others gave the Sword a fearful tug before slinking away like a whimpering hound with its tail tucked. "Nathan… Nik… Liam…" the names went on and on. "Link of Hateno Village."

Like the men before him, Link followed the wide steps of the central dais, his face as hard as stone. At least he didn't look afraid, Sir Horwell thought languidly. The young man stared up at the massive statue of Hylia gazing down at the gathering in her temple with lifeless eyes made of stone. And then he stepped forward to the Sword of Evil's Bane and wrapped his fingers around the hilt.

He pulled on it, and something began to shift.

Sir Horwell's jaw nearly hung agape… surely his eyes were just seeing things, he thought… it couldn't really be? The blade shifted again, and the sound of steel grating against stone echoed across the silent chamber. Sir Horwell rose to his feet, unable to peel his eyes away from the pedestal that had kept been the resting place of the Sword of Legend for nearly ten millennia.

And in a triumphant moment, the Master Sword was wrenched free from its resting place.

This Link of Hateno Village seemed as surprised as anyone, that stony expression of his giving way to wide eyed astonishment… and then, in a flicker of time, horror. Abject, hopeless horror. This common man from Hateno looked down at the shimmering blade in his hand as if it were an object cursed by the Calamity itself, as if the very sight of it made his stomach curdle with

Not the sort of expression Sir Horwell had been expecting at all, but could he blame the lad he wondered? That blade was the now the one and only truth that validated and confirmed their greatest fear.

Ganon would return, and _he_ was destined to fight it. He and the Princess of Hyrule, alone.

Sir Horwell thought he would feel some sense of hope when the Sword was at last freed from its pedestal, but now that it had actually happened…. Well, needless to say, he offered a silent prayer the goddess Hylia, entreating her to grant them protection from the coming storm. The boy bearing that blade was more than just the Chosen Hero now. He was a herald of doom.

Even as the countless men in the temple cheered and cried out with joy that the Chosen Hero had been found, Sir Horwell sank slowly back into his chair with an upsetting feeling in his stomach, a heavy truth bearing down on his heart; Ganon was truly coming. And there was nothing to change it.

How much destruction would it bring, he wondered? How many would die in the coming war?

Just with once glance into the Hero's eyes Sir Horwell knew he was asking himself the same questions. And yet, in a single blink those strikingly blue eyes changed from a look of horror to gaze as hard as steel. Cold, lifeless steel. He had seen that look before. It was the look of a warrior just returned from battle, having seen the truth of the way the world worked.

A truth that did not harken warmth and comfort. He pitied the man, earnestly.

* * *

-Epilogue I-

As always, Helen sat by the fire to warm her hands before returning to her fine stitching. The coolness of the evening always seemed to get to her sooner whenever she fell ill, but it was nothing a little warm soup, medicine, and hot tea couldn't fix. If even a little bit.

Although, the fire was a poor substitute for company. She felt rather lonely with Link gone. Seeing his chair beside hers empty and lifeless tugged on the string tied around her heart connecting her to her only son. Even though he never was much of a talker, just feeling his presence next to her made her feel warmer than any old soup or tea could. Even his silence spoke louder than this.

But he would return in a day or two, she reminded herself, and that was that. No sense in moseying and moping about like a child, there was working to do. At least work gave her something to think about other than the feeling of loneliness.

A knock suddenly came to her door, which was odd, but not uncommon.

Setting her work aside, Helen rushed over to open the door―carefully however, so as not to upset her lungs and start a fit―and greeted the tall Rito Courier standing before her. Another odd thing to happen, but not unheard of. She wondered who had written to her.

Accepting the small envelope from the Rito's wings, Helen offered a courteous goodbye, and closed the door, wasting no time to cut open the strange mail. A note was inside, neatly folded into thirds and signed with a short name. Although she was no expert quite yet, Link had been teaching her how to read. She could recognize the letters of that name as her own quite well by then.

She quicklyfully opened up the letter fully and slowly read its contents, a frown slowly reaching across her lips as she deciphered every word.

 _Mama,_

 _I fear I have been chosen by the Master Sword. I don't know why it chose me, or what will happen now, but it did and there's nothing I can do to change it. I'm sorry. I promise that I will do everything I can to get back to you as soon as possible, but right now I am being taken to see the King himself._

Helen reread the word 'King' twice, making sure she understood its meaning.

 _I will write to you as often as I can if I'm not back soon. If you need any money, remember that the chest behind the house is still buried there. Hire someone you trust to dig it up if necessary. Please, take care of yourself while I'm away, I don't know what I would do if something happened._

 _I love you,_

 _Link_

 _P.S. Make sure you see Renado for your medicine. He will take care of you._

When she was certain she had read every word correctly, Helen dropped back down into her chair, covering her wet eyes with cold and trembling fingers. It wasn't fair! How could her boy be taken away again so soon? After so many years of being separated from him, how could she bear going back to that feeling of loneliness? How could she bear the feeling of knowing her only son was out there in the wide world all alone, with some damned prophesied sword on his back?

It just wasn't fair.

* * *

End of Book One

* * *

Can you believe we're already 18 chapters in? Off to book two!

And this is where the real fun begins, my lovely readers. Something to note, from now on the majority of the story will reside in Zelda's perspective (how she feels, how she thinks) although we will get to branch out into the Champions as well. I am looking forward to it.

As always, let me know what you think in the reviews, and have an wonderful day!


	19. Book 2 Chapter 1

.

* * *

Book Two

A Rising Storm

* * *

Chapter One

Not What was Expected

Despite her best efforts, the Princess of Hyrule, sworn protector of the Kingdom, Descendant of the goddess Hylia made mortal, heir to the Sacred Power destined to seal away the Darkness could not stop herself from shivering like a freezing fool in the spring-fed cold waters of the castle sanctuary, just as she had done every day since she was ten years old.

Every day, without exception.

From the first hours of the morning till the clock tower in Castle Town rang ten times, Zelda kneeled in that solitary pool before the statue of their immortalized deity, praying and begging for any direction, any hints or suggestions as too how she was to unlock the Sacred Powers bestowed upon her as birthright of the first-born princess of the Royal Family. And yet, they ever eluded her. It was as if the goddess her self saw it right to insult her every effort with silence, a testament to the continued disappointment of her father and people.

"All I ask is for guidance," Zelda whispered to the benevolent-faced stone looming over her, tensing the muscles in her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. "A sign. A word. Anything at all." The statue's complacent smile remained unchanged. _Of course_. But it was no surprise to Zelda. Why should she expect any different? What could have possibly changed today compared to every other day before?

 _Nothing._ Always nothing.

Faintly the ringing of bells echoed through the empty chambers of the sanctuary, signaling the end of her morning ritual, at last.

Clasping her arms around herself, Zelda waded over to the edge of the pool where a warm towel awaited her and a change of clothes. Normally a maid would arrive to help her change, but as of late she rather preferred the small moment to herself―truly to herself and not to that stone-faced idol―taking her due time to rid herself of that white gown she so despised. A white gown to symbolism the purity of spirit; that's what her father always said it was, and yet she loathed wearing it. Zelda knew she shouldn't feel that way, but it was, and unfortunately changing a feeling like that wasn't quite as easy changing a dress.

Her cold muscles fought against her as she peeled back the sopping wet dress that clung to her body, sending waves of shivers through her spine. _You'd think I'd get used to this,_ she thought to herself gloomily, and certainly not for the first time. At least it wasn't winter yet, then she'd _really_ be shivering like fool. The thought put her teeth on edge. If she had to suffer through such constant strife, couldn't she at least get even the smallest hint as to what in Hylia's name she was supposed to be doing? At least then she'd know she wasn't suffering in vain.

 _Wouldn't that be nice,_ she murmured, fighting back the last shiver. _I would gladly freeze all day if I knew it was doing something useful._ Fortunately, before long she was dry and in proper, _functional_ clothing, outstretching her fingers to the fire basin on the pool's edge.

Zelda sighed with relief provided by the fire's warmth, when a loud knock suddenly rattled on the massive wooden doors of the sanctuary. "Princess Zelda," a servant's voice said. "There is urgent news from your father. He wishes to speak with you."

"I will be out in a moment," Zelda answered unenergetically, just wishing for a moment longer by the fire before she was dragged out into the day's affairs like an unbidden hostage.

"Your Majesty," the servant persisted, "they've found him. The Master Sword has been pulled from its pedestal." Her eyes widened and ears twitched as if wonder if they had heard correctly.

"What?" Zelda rushed to the door, wrenching it open as fast as she could. "Who is he?" _Could it really be,_ she wondered? Goddesses how she prayed this day would come, when the unbearable weight of the responsibility of the coming Calamity would not rest solely on her shoulders.

"I do not know, your Majesty," the servant answered, admittedly surprised by how swiftly the Princess had descended upon him. "All I know is what has been echoed through the servant's halls. He arrived this morning by wagon, but he was quickly rushed to the Inner Sanctum. They've been there for nearly two hours now, with only the guards being permitted to enter. You must go to him Princess, swiftly." Bowing, the castle servant extended a hand out to the hallway, imploring her to hurry.

"Shouldn't I change into something more presentable?" Her dress was truthfully a simple one, surprisingly comfortable but lacking any elegance, far from anything a Princess should be expected to wear when first meeting the man Chosen by the Sword.

True, Zelda could hardly contain her excitement, erring to throw caution to the wind and rush her way to the Inner Sanctum looking like a common village girl, but considering her father's pretenses of always carrying oneself as a royal should, in appearance and attitude, Zelda reconsidered her position on the matter. She was a Princess, she reminder herself―hearing her father's stern voice in her head―and was expected to act like one.

"Your father urged immediacy, Princess," the servant replied nervously, "but I suppose you have a point. Perhaps you would prefer if I were to run and fetch your maidservant with something fitting of the occasion so that you may change in the sanctuary?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you!" With a smile and a hop and a skip, the elderly servant sped down the hall shockingly fast for his raggedy appearance, and within ten minutes Lini, her maidservant, came barreling down the corridor, an elegant gown and hair fastenings hastily gathered in her arms. It was one of Zelda's most treasured gowns, one that once belonged to her mother long ago before she died, made from a rich Gerudo silk died deep blue and trimmed in shimmering gold… a gift from Urbosa, if she remembered correctly.

"I came as fast as I could, your Majesty," Lini wheezed, cheeks flush with effort, pulling the Princess back into the sanctuary to begin her miracle work. "Grand news, is this not? I know how long you've been praying for this, your Majesty, poor thing. Fear not, I will make positively radiant in no time at all. Can't be looking like any common lady now can we Princess?" With deft hands she began to unbutton the back of Zelda's dress. "I only just now heard of news of the Chosen One's arrival, do you know anything of him? Is he a noble? A soldier?"

"I'm not sure, Lini," Zelda replied, slipping her dress over her head and accepting the replacement. "But whoever he is he must be an extraordinary man. Haven't you heard of all the old Legends? A valiant Hylian chosen by the Sword itself, fighting alongside the Descendent of Hylia to seal away the reincarnating Evil…" At least, that's what all the manuscripts and histories said.

She herself had spent countless hours reading through those old dusty books and studying the ancient art works depicting a heroic figure―often remarkably handsome if she did say so herself―wielding that mystical weapon against the terrors of Ganon's making. A Hero and a Princess, that's how it always was written. As surely as with one came the other, fates intertwined in a delicate dance that stretched across the eons.

Perhaps he was the key to unlocking her Sealing Powers, she wondered. It was a novel idea, Zelda thought, but surely it had merit.

"Oh, I've heard the stories, Princess," Lini agreed, securing the back of her dress just as easily as she had undone the other. "But don't you go getting any foolish ideas about whoever this Chosen One is, your Majesty. I've read those gaudy books that suggested there were romantic relations between the Hero and Descendants of old." Her old maid grunted as if the very notion was a great disgust. "Nonsense all of it. It isn't proper."

"Why shouldn't it be?" Zelda replied, a warmth rising in her cheeks. Would this new Hero be as handsome of as the great paintings of old, she wondered? Zelda hated to admit it, but the question had certainly popped into her mind on more than one occasion. It was not like she was some swooning village girl that jumbled her finer sense at the first sight of a handsome man, but wasn't she entitled to at least one romanticized thought once in a while? Even if it remained her knowledge alone? "After all, wouldn't a man Chosen by the Sword be fitting of any title of the land? Including the title of King if he's agreeable."

"I said no getting foolish ideas in your head, Princess," Lini warned with a sternness that was unusual of a common servant's mannerisms. Of course, Lini was no common servant. But she had always been that way; loyal as any soul could be, even if that meant being brutally honest enough to call the King himself a fool if necessary. A royal always needed at least one servant willing to speak sense into them from time to time. "Now you will meet with this _Hero,_ and you will speak appropriately with him. Nothing more, nothing less. For all we know he could be a perverted mongrel―"

"Alright Lini," Zelda chuckled. "No need to work yourself into a knot. It was merely a thought experiment. Of course I won't be foolish, I haven't even met him yet. I'm quite sure everything will be done in an orderly fashion."

"And its best you keep that mindset, Princess. Remember what I always say…"

Zelda rolled her eyes as she mimicked her maid with startling accuracy. "'All men are pigs, even the best of them.'"

"That's right," Lini huffed, working pins into the long golden locks of Zelda's hair. "Just you wait. You'll see that even this _man_ Chosen by the Sword is no better than the lowest soldier; only good at swinging a blade like a bumpkin and getting drunk when he's done."

"No need to be testy, Lini," Zelda deadpanned. "It's not exactly fair to insult a man _you've_ never met. This is joyous news! We finally have some sort of breakthrough here…" Zelda fell quiet, a trivial discovery coming to mind. "It's the first bit of hope I've had in a long while."

"And that I am very glad of," Lini said with a real hint of warmth in her hoarse voice. "Hylia knows you deserve a little good news, dear Princess. No one has worked harder at this whole ordeal than you. Its only right you're rewarded for your efforts." Zelda hoped that was true. "Well. My work is finished. As promised, you look as stunning as ever, your Majesty. Now go on to your father and remember what I said about that _man!_ "

Zelda didn't grace that last part with a response, but she did thank Lini for coming on such short notice before marching out of the sanctuary to climb the countless steps up to the Inner Sancturm at the peak of Hyrule Castle. By the end of her hike her legs burned with effort, but she didn't mind at all. It warmed her right up after her cold dip into the freezing water earlier, revitalizing the life in her muscles.

It helped that her heart was beating like a drum too. She was admittedly feeling quite nervous. It wasn't exactly every day you'd meet the Hero reincarnate.

But what would he be like, Zelda wondered? Obviously, he would be courageous, that was a given considering the circumstances of his arrival, but would he be kind as well? Gifted? Sociable? She hoped he would be, it would make befriending him much easier. How awful it would have been if were dull or odious, as Lini suggested. She prayed in Hylia's good name that he would be as ever bit of a Hero as the legends foretold. A leader, a warrior, someone who knew what on earth they were to do when Ganon would eventually come. Zelda had certainly given up hope on that front for herself, she was a clueless as any―besides the Divine Beasts of course, there always was that backup plan, as long as she could find pilots for them.

Still, all the same, she hoped this Hero Chosen by the Sword was nothing short of exemplary.

But there was only one way to find out for certain. Shaking out the nervousness swirling sensation in her chest, Zelda gave her mother's old dress a once over to make sure it was perfect and entered the Inner Sanctum as two guards held the doors wide.

Sunlight assaulted her from above, the massive windows of the arching spires above did little in the way off cutting down its intensity of the morning sun, but after a blink or two her eyes adjusted, and she made her way beside her father where he sat contemplatively on his throne overlooking the monolithic chamber of the Inner Sanctum. The King regarded her with an unreadable expression―not a good start, she thought―and bid her to look over the railing.

What she saw was not quite exactly what she had imagined.

Not that she had any right to demand the Hero Chosen by the Sword to look a certain way, that would have been rather childish, but she wasn't expecting him to look so… so absolutely ordinary. He certainly wasn't ugly, far from it really, but he wasn't precisely handsome either. Just average, unremarkable.

He had a lean figure that spoke of man that worked hard, perhaps as a soldier or some other profession, but he was remarkably short for a man, just about her height if she were to guess, and his clothes which were plain and undescriptive seemed well worn in if not verging on a little dirty and made for rugged travel.

A ranger, perhaps? A sellsword?

He had long golden hair, quite similar in color to hers, which was neatly pulled back into a short tail on the back of his head, long side burns framing his face, and surprisingly, a small blue earing hung on his right earlobe. A rather uncommon sight among Hylia men but not entirely unheard of. But besides that, there was nothing else that seemed extraordinary about this man Chosen by the Sword. He hardly even seemed older than herself, perhaps by three or four years at most. She had expected someone older.

Zelda didn't get a good look at his eyes before he dropped to one knee and lowered his head, a courteous bow to say the least. The strange thing was that it was a very disciplined and crisp bow, hardly wobbly or rushed like most commoners' bows, so that marked him out as something more than just some village boy. A Knight's servant, perhaps? A servant would know how to bow like that.

"Rise, Chosen Hero," Zelda said, projecting her voice across the Inner Sanctum like her father had taught her. "Tell me your name." The man rose to his feet as deftly as he kneeled, clutching a long object in his hands that was wrapped in a delicate linen fastened by leather cords.

"Link, your Majesty," he answered. It was a calm and tempered voice, almost soft. Now that Zelda could see them, his eyes appeared to be a striking shade of blue, easily becoming the one markedly unique thing about him. Of all the eye colors of Hyrule, blue and green were by far the rarest. Most were brown.

"Where are you from?"

"Hateno Village, your Majesty." Zelda waited to hear if he had any more to offer up, but that was all he had to say. Perhaps he was nervous? He certainly didn't look or sound nervous, but the curtness of his answers inclined otherwise.

"I see," she replied to the open air. Looking back at her father it was obvious to see that his mind was elsewhere, locked in deep thought. But for what reason? What had they discussed before her arrival?

At any rate, she was eager to speak at a normal distance from the Hero Chosen by the Sword instead of lording herself above him from the balcony, so gathering the front of her dress she descended the short curved staircase to the Sanctum floor, closing the gap between them by a fair margin. His steely eyes remained trained on her, as unreadable as her father's.

"May…" Zelda hesitated. Perhaps it was rude to rush through introductions so soon, but she could hardly wait for frivolous chatter. "May I see it? The Master Sword." Silently, Link nodded, and carefully untied the leather cords holding the linen together. It fell away with a mere brush of the hand, revealing a shimmering blade that shone like a mirror under the bright sunlight, and a winged guard of a strange purple otherworldly metal.

There was no doubt about it. It was the one and only Master Sword. She had meticulously measured and analyzed when it was still buried in its pedestal at the Temple of Time, but not that it was here in its full splendor it was like seeing it truly for the first time. She ran a single finger along the face of the blade, marveling in its uniformity and glass-like surface… it was so cold, as if it had been submerged into the freezing waters of the Hebra Mountains. _Most peculiar,_ she thought.

"I wonder what it's made of," Zelda said aloud, the cogitations of her mind slipping out, unbeknownst to her. "Perhaps we can have Purah or Robbie take a second look at it, I'm sure they can think of something that will help of understand how it was made. Perhaps even replicate it."

"Your scientific musings will have to wait for another time, Zelda." The King had risen from his throne, as was peering down at them. She recognized that look on his face now… there was little time for anything he deemed nonsense. "What of your powers? Do you feel any change now that the Sword has been drawn from its pedestal?"

"Nothing yet, father," Zelda replied after a pause, taking careful note of the way Link's eyes shifted between them like a watchful animal still working out how to approach its surroundings.

"A pity," her father sighed, almost bitterly. Zelda didn't like the sound of it. He was irritated and growing more so by the second. Why that was, she couldn't say, but she wasn't looking forward to finding out why. She thought he would be overjoyed to have at last found the man they had been searching for actively for nearly four years now, but he wasn't…

"You may discuss with the boy further," the King said, casting distant eyes elsewhere as he clasped thoughtful hands behind him. "See me in my study when you are done. There are things we must… speak of." Zelda watched as he left, eyebrows knotting with concern. Why wouldn't he say what bad news lay on his mind. The whole affair so far was very _unceremonious_ considering the significance of what had happened.

Perhaps _he_ would know.

"Forgive me for being rude," Zelda said, turning back to face Link properly, trying to force out the sound of concern from her tone. "I'm not much of one for introductions, but this is a very significant meeting. May I ask more about you? I must admit I am curious as to who you are, considering you have been chosen by the Sword."

Link remained oddly quiet, favoring a slow nod instead of speaking.

"So, you are from Hateno. Were you a servant in Sir Jame's estate? You certainly have the mannerisms and air of a well-trained serviceman."

"No, your Majesty," Link answered, gently covering the Master Sword and retying its bindings. "I was raised in the estate of Sir Peter Hamish, before he died."

"Oh…" She remembered hearing about his death, a terribly odd thing to happen, falling from a waterfall and drowning. Her father was quite distraught over the matter, he was his closest and most trusted advisor, at least when it came to the faculties of war. "I was sorry to hear about what happened, I understand that he was a valiant Knight..." Zelda shifted in place, growing a little uneasy with how little Link's expression changed, how little he spoke. It was almost like talking to a statue―Hylia above she had enough of talking to damned statues. "Were you a footman? A groom?"

"I was his Ward Protector," Link answered plainly.

"I see…" So that meant he was trained with a sword at the very least. That was good, but there had to be a reason why the Master Sword had chosen him specifically, and she was hard set on uncovering it. "How did you end up in his service? Hateno is a far way off from Sir Hamish's estate, is it not?"

"It was," Link replied evenly, scratching scratched the back of his neck. "But Sir Hamish took me in."

 _That's it?_ Zelda gave the answer a long, exultatingly thoughtfully pause, waiting for Link to give anything more than that, but hips lips remained sealed. So, he wasn't much of a talker, that much was clear… There were worse things to be and not to be, she supposed, but it would definitely make getting information out of him a little harder. Perhaps a different approach would be better, she wondered.

"So, you were just a boy from Hateno taken in by a Knight and trained as a Ward until he regrettably passed away, and now you answered the call to test yourself on the Sword and pulled it free, yes?"

A beat passed.

"Yes, your Majesty."

"Is there anything else? Anything special? Surely there's something locked away in your past that could help me…" Zelda began muttering to herself again, a bad habit she had that her father tried to break her of, but she found it much easier to reason things out if she could her own voice. Crazy, perhaps, but effective. For once, a semblance of expression danced across Link's stony face; a single eyebrow rose questioningly.

It never even occurred to her that he might not know. Of course, how could he? He was from half a world away, where the gossip of the castle folk didn't reach their ears… he didn't know that she had yet to unlock the Sealing Power… he didn't know that to this day she served as a reminder to her father that their doom was nigh, that if she continued to fail in her single duty the Kingdom would perish.

He didn't know that the Princess of Hyrule, sworn protector of the Kingdom, Descendant of the goddess Hylia made mortal, heir to the Sacred Power destined to seal away the Darkness was a bitter, _utterly useless_ failure.

Or perhaps he did know. Perhaps that was the reason for his peculiar silence. Perhaps like every other servant, guard, commoner, and noble in the Kingdom alike, he had heard the whispers and the rumors about the inept Princess of Hyrule. What if he remained silent because he knew that their fates were intertwined like the Legends of Old, and yet she could not uphold her side of the bargain, that she would be his downfall.

The possibility of that reality came crashing down on her, and although she tried her best to train her face to appear regal and calm, she could feel the frown developing across her her lips. The joy and excitement of before began slipping through her fingers like water, and in its place came waves of anxiety. Gone was the eagerness to meet this Hero Chosen by the Sword. She needed time to think the whole matter over, she needed a place to sit and mull over the logic of it all.

"Forgive me, Master Link…" His brow retreated, evening out his already flat expression. "I need a moment. I'm sure you're tired from your travels―" Zelda turned and abruptly left, her heart beating like the hooves of a horse beat against the ground in a gallop. She couldn't think of what else to say… she couldn't look at him anymore, not until she got her head on straight.

Yes, that was all. Once she did that, she'd be right as rain and ready to continue prodding Link for answers. Zelda wondered if perhaps her father could be of any help.

On that note, she took the fastest route to her father's study, every step she took furthering herself from the man who drew the Sword and lightening the invisible weight on her shoulders.

* * *

Link watched the Princess of Hyrule leave in a flurry of her elegant gown, standing strictly in place till he heard the doors of the Inner Sanctum shut loudly. A lone Royal Guard remained in the chamber with him, hand resting lazily on the hilt of his sword. The Knight's demeanor had slackened now that both royals were gone, and his eyes rounded on the man―the boy―that had freed the Sword.

"Well. You've made quite the first impression," he said roughly. "What did you say to upset her?"

Link made no answer.


	20. Book 2 Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A Burden Made Heavier

Zelda's father lightly tapped the bowl of his pipe on the edge of his desk to clear it before thumbing in a generous and fresh pinch of tobacco, relighting it with a thin match. He puffed on it thoughtfully, almost unaware of his daughter's entry until she slumped down in the cushioned chair opposite of him.

"You're here rather quick," the King remarked, drawing heavily on the stem. "I thought you'd be interrogating the poor boy till dusk."

"He is…" Zelda hesitated, unsure of how to phrase her response. "Different. Very quiet. Were you able to get very much out of him?" She hoped he had, otherwise that meant she would have to face him again without at least a modicum of confidence.

"Different," the King grunted, if only to himself. "Did he tell you his origins?"

"Only that he was from Hateno Village… and that Sir Hamish trained him to be his Ward." Zelda fell silent as her father's eyebrows began gathering into wrinkled knots. The years had not been kind to his skin, nor his hair which had turned white as snow. "Did he tell you more?"

"Only when I pried him for it, and even then, very little," her father answered slowly, giving pause to resituate himself in his chair before being again in an almost stern voice. "I suppose it is of little _actual_ consequence to what must be done, but I think it best you should know that he is in truth Sir Hamish's illegitimate son."

"What?" Her jaw hung open. Why hadn't he told her that?

"I confirmed it with one of Sir Hamish's closest peers after the boy told me." Zelda's father grumbled, sounding akin to a bear woken from its hibernation, and was very much unhappy about it. "It is true. It seems that shortly after the war with Labrynna, when Sir Hamish returned to Hyrule, he and his men stopped for rest in the village of Hateno before beginning the long trek home. He took a fancy to a common tavern whore and bought her services. The rest…" He waved a hand through the small trail of smoke pouring from his mouth. "You are old enough to put together."

Zelda shifted uncomfortably in her chair, anxiously waiting for him to continue. She had nothing to offer up, even she wanted to.

"Can you believe it?" By then it didn't even seem like her father was even talking to her, but rather the open air, as if it could carry his voice to the heavens. "The bastard son of one of my once most trusted Knights, a common _boy,_ pulling free the Master Sword from its pedestal. A mere boy! When every capable soldier and Knight in the Kingdom could not even make it budge?" Sweat had begun to bead on the King's forehead, through anger or worry, Zelda could not say. Likely it was both.

For a long anguishing silence his words permeated into her mind, echoing repeatedly, challenging her to respond, but the best that she could manage to do was remain perfectly frozen, and hope to remain invisible. Zelda could tell he was on the verge of an outburst, as he only smoked when under immense duress―which was growing to be more and more, frequent―and she learned that it was better to wait out the storm and revisit the topic at a later time.

Unfortunately, her father's exasperated ramblings to the air swiftly turned their attentions to her, and it was unbearable to hear.

"A bastard child, Zelda," he repeated, slamming his pipe on the desk. "That's what he is. A boy no more fitting of the lowest title as a common foot soldier in the army, and yet in one day―one day―he has come closer to fulfilling his part in the prophecy than you have in ten years!" The Princess averted her eyes from his father's intense glower, too ashamed to even look at the ground beneath her feet. "Ten years, Zelda!"

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, tears blurring her vision as they welled up beneath her eyelids. "I- I'm sorry. I don't know what to do. I've tried everything that I know…" Zelda forced the sob that wanted cry out back into her chest, gripping onto the arms of her chair for any sensation of being anchored to the world around her. She hated feeling this weak… this helpless. The pain only tormented her, and hearing him belittle that fact only made the sensation worse. "I thought maybe now that the Sword had chosen its wielder something would change, but…"

"But it hasn't," the King finished, the heat of his outburst subsiding a little in his voice. He was not entirely lost to his senses. Yet. "Nothing has changed, for ten years. Is there nothing…?" The King massaged his eyes as he sighed, giving up on his words.

"I know, father, I know…" If anyone knew, it was her. Zelda had tried _everything,_ and yet Hylia had found her wanting. Was she truly so incapable? So unworthy of even a breath of a whisper's help?

A dejected tear rolled down Zelda's cheek faster than she could catch it and wipe it away, which to its credit seemed to ease her father's temper, if even a little bit. The tenseness in his frame loosened, and his shoulders sank into his chair. She knew he didn't enjoy chastising her, but the man was hard set in his ways.

"This Kingdom needs you, Zelda," he said in a lower volume than before, almost a throaty noise. "Without you our doom is as assured as the rising of the sun. The prophecy says as much, and more. You _must_ learn to wield the Sacred Powers… there is no other way." The King resumed to drawing long breathes through the stem of his pipe, a steady rhythm he had developed to calm his nerves in situations like these. "When you see Master Link next, I want you to take careful note of the Sword in his possession, Zelda. Let it serve as your constant reminder of to what is to come. Burn that image into your mind until it becomes your fuel, so that you do not continue to fail. Do that, and surely with enough dedication and focused prayer you will find revelation."

Zelda did not raise protest against his command, although she thought it a deplorably helpless one. If nothing had changed in ten years, what could possibly change now?

Rising at her own bidding and blinking away the wetness in her eyes, Zelda curtsied to the King as was proper, and said in a raspy airless voice, "is there anything else, father?" His eyes drifted over from the wall where he had been staring blankly and considered her with an acute pause.

"There is," he said with impassivity, having mastered himself fully once again. "I received word from Impa yesterday evening." The King tapped a finger on a neatly folded note on his desk. "I believe her counsel to be of sound judgement, regarding the Divine Beasts."

"You have considered our proposal?" Zelda asked, her breath hitching. Really it was Robbie and Purah's proposal, but she had helped present it to the King, sticking by it wholeheartedly.

"I have. And I believe it best that pilots be found for the Divine Beasts as soon as possible. If we are to be starting this war with our hands already tied, then I want to take every advantage made available to us." There was not question as to what had bound their hands. That, Zelda understood fully. "You will go and speak with Elder Kenali in Rito Village first. Impa has told me that there is a warrior among their ranks that will be of immeasurable usefulness, if he agrees, of course. Revali is his name. He is young but an experienced fighter."

"Do I have your blessing to leave by tomorrow?" Zelda asked hopefully. Goddess she could use an escape from the prison walls that were her home… and an escape from Link.

"Tomorrow? No… in a few days. I want you present for Master Link's official knighting."

"You're knighting him! So soon?" After all his talk of him being a bastard child? A lowly common boy? And now he wanted to knight him? It wasn't that she had a _particular_ problem with it, he _was_ the Hero chosen by the Sword after all, but was it truly wise to knight him so soon? They knew so little about him, besides the matter of his birth and upbringing, but what if Lini was right after all and he was an odious man…?

How could they be certain he wouldn't abuse his new status, or act like a plain fool? A Knight was expected to act a certain way, do certain things, know certain things. Being a Ward was one thing, but being a Knight was another entirely! This was all too rushed.

"It is for our best interests," the King explained firmly. "We need to give the people something to rally behind something… _someone_. Otherwise they will continue to lose morale―you know how fastidious the people can be when they are unhappy―and what better way boost that morale than to knight the valiant warrior that was chosen by the Sword itself? A man of their own background. A man of the people, if you will. Besides, he does have noble blood in him, if only partly, and from everything I've gathered he is an educated and well-trained man. I do not see why not." Zelda took the chance to voice her concerns.

"But are we sure we can trust him with such responsibility yet? What if he only makes matters worse, through ignorance or…" Or what? Intention? That couldn't be… right?

"Trust is a rare thing these days," the King noted judiciously. "But his new title will not bring him any new responsibilities… not yet at least. It is merely something to be held at face value by the people. Besides, he seems more than capable of keeping his mouth shut. I don't believe he will say anything foolish, especially after everything I've told him." The King sighed. "Maybe once we are certain he can handle further responsibilities, he will be given something to pry at, but until then merely dealing with the fact of freeing the Sword will be responsibility enough."

Zelda was growing weary of hearing that… 'he has freed the Sword, he has freed the Sword.' It was like a little itch in the back of her mind, always reminding her that she had not freed her power yet, that failure continued to be her only offering, and hadn't gone away since it began that morning.

"The ceremony will be held in public, so that the people may see for themselves."

Regardless of how much it hurt to admit it, the idea did have merit. The people needed _someone_ to look up to and find hope in―Hylia above knew she wasn't enough to provide that―but it was still painful to acknowledge. A common boy outstripping the Princess who all accounts should have gathered her senses years ago, and now that fact was to be laid bare in the plain view of the people she was sworn to protect.

Zelda's throat grew dry and constricted just imagining their faces, praising and hailing the Hero that freed the Sword, but turning a cold shoulder to the inept Princess of Hyrule.

 _Wonderful,_ she thought gloomily. _Just bloody wonderful._

"Is that all, father?" Zelda was ready to leave. She didn't think she could handle one more second in that study before bursting into tears.

"That is all. You may go."

* * *

Nearly an hour later Zelda found herself in the castle library, burying her face into an open book―quite literally―although she had been unaware to most of the trip on account of her deeply entrenched thoughts. It was not the first time she had roamed the halls like a mindless Redead… there had more than one occasion a servant had stirred her from her absentmindedness, concerned for her health and wellbeing. A kind consideration, but ultimately futile. Waking up from those dazes always brought her back to whatever got her there in the first place.

Goddess above how she wanted the whole mess to be over and done with.

Lifting her head from the aromatic pages, Zelda inspected the contents of the book her dazed self had chosen, regretfully finding that it was a compendium outlining the heroic deeds of the Hero of Time, particularly when he had freed all seven sages―including that era's Descendant of Hylia―and challenged Ganon, who had taken a Gerudo's form. _How fitting_ , she thought sardonically, quickly slamming the book closed. She knew that tale forward and back, and yet it never once mentioned how the Descendant of that era had unlocked _her_ sealing powers. It was as if _she_ had just been born with them without a day of trouble.

 _If only it were that simple._

"Lini told me you would be here." Zelda jumped in her chair, having not heard the newcomer approach. Of course, she recognized the voice instantly, and a she felt a little flicker of gladness in her heart. "Forgive me, Princess, I did not mean to startle you."

"Its quite alright, Milos," Zelda replied, massaging her sensitive eyes. Had she been crying? "I just wasn't paying attention."

"I can tell you're stressed, Princess," Milos noted sadly, straying a little closer. "Would you like me to play you a song to help calm your nerves?"

That was very much like him to offer such a thing. Naturally, Milos was the court poet and musician, a rather well put together Sheikah bard if she said so herself, and ever so kind. In fact, he was one of the few souls within the castle that Zelda actually felt like she could call a friend. They were close in age, perhaps a year or two difference, and well versed in the comings and goings of the court, which meant that it was easy for him to sympathize and talk with her like no one else did, since she had very little time to socialize and befriend like most high ladies of Hyrule. Yes, Milos was often a sight for sore eyes and a joy to the ears.

He had such tremendously beautiful music of all sorts, though Zelda particularly enjoyed when he played music from his homeland; that airy wispiness of the soft tinny melodies was simplistic in nature, but ever so tranquil and relaxing.

"I would love if you would play," Zelda replied without hesitation, welcoming the distraction from her ailed mind. Milos beamed with a genuine smile―he was very dedicated to his craft―and sat in the chair beside her, deftly placing a Sheikah styled stringed instrument in his lap as his fingers plucked different cords.

Zelda sank further into her chair, and let out a deep breath, relaxing the tight muscles around her neck. She had found it very easy to give herself a headache if she didn't consciously loosen those muscles, and if hoped to survive the day, she needed to avoid that at all cost.

"I heard about this morning," Milos said, gently strumming on his odd instrument. "I hear this… _Hero_ is not quite what your father was expecting." He posed it as more of a question than a statement.

"He's not what either of us expected," Zelda answered, keeping her eyes shut and thoughts close.

"How so?"

Zelda paused. "Its not my place to say… but father is going to knight him tomorrow." Milos's music slowed a little, but after a breath it continued on in that slow, dreamy tempo.

"You don't agree with his choice?" the bard asked curiously. "It does seem fitting, doesn't it? To knight the man Chosen by the Sword."

"Normally I would agree," Zelda began somberly, "but it just seems… it seems so rushed. So artificial. And so frustrating."

"Frustrating? How so?" Milos asked in his usual benevolent voice. Zelda hesitated to answer, a rising sensation of embarrassment swelling in her chest.

"Its just that I've tried and tried for so long to unlock these… _Powers."_ She held her hands up before her, as if that denoted anything of the sort. "So many years I've spent shivering and praying in those freezing waters at the sanctuary without even a drop of insight _,_ and yet this boy from some country village comes along and frees the Master Sword from its pedestal without a trial or struggle to be heard of… and then when I spoke to him, he was so… so silent. As if he didn't even want to talk to me, as if he wanted to avoid it all together. And now he is to be knighted." Zelda sighed again, struggling to make sense of her words. "I just thought things would be different… I was so hopeful… But I was wrong."

"Why would he do such a thing?" Milos declared, rising to her defense. "He should know better than to just ignore the Princess of Hyrule… you are stationed above him… it's not proper, nor is it polite!"

"I appreciate you saying that," Zelda replied softly, "but…" She couldn't think of the rest. Her mind was a jumbled mess as it was, emotions awash and mixed with frustration and disappointment. How was she to face him again? She could barely muster the courage to face her father after everything he had said, and now she would have to face both, in public, before a crowd. The thought of it alone put her nerves on edge.

"I don't know what to think anymore."

"Well, if I get to see him, I'll make sure he hears a thing or two on my mind, Princess, don't you worry about that. Hero or no Hero, he'll get it from me." After that, Milos's music took a little more of an aggressive rhythm, though Zelda didn't think that he himself was aware of the change. But at any rate, it was better than complete silence, so while she focused on continuing to ease the muscles in her shoulders and neck, Zelda listened absently to the bard's music, worrying and praying about the coming trials.


	21. Book 2 Chapter 3

-Prelude I-

"You are shorter than I imagined," Misses Bera, the castle seamstress, said. She was measuring the distance between Link's nape and hips, markedly surprised by how short that distance really was.

The boy remained silent, however, which was odd, but she didn't comment on that.

In fact, ever since he had been sent to her by the butler with orders from the King to be fashioned in a new tunic―and on the double mind you―he had said but maybe three words. A very odd boy, Misses Bera thought, there was no doubt about it. Certainly not who she expected to be chosen by the Master Sword. But besides that, he did seem like and agreeable lad, and hardly intimidating at all.

Misses Bera prided herself on being made of sterner stuff, after all. Not even the highest Knight in the Kingdom could make her feel nervous, no if's and's or but's about it.

"Have you had a chance to meet the Princess?" She asked, moving her measuring tape to gauge the length of his arms for an undershirt. "She is a dear little thing… so very worried about this and that all the time. Very smart, however. Keep that in mind, Master Link, very smart indeed."

"I have met her." It was a simple reply, but then again, he was a simple man. She had heard through the servant's gossiping ring that he was from Hateno… a quaint village to say the least. Definitely not the sort of town one would expect a bonified Hero to come from.

"And what do you think of her?" There was a considerable pause, but he did respond eventually.

"She is smart, like you said."

"Do you think you two will get along, dear?" Poor girl could use a companion, she thought. All the Princess really had in the way of friends was that silly Sheikah bard, but there was more bubble than substance in that foamy drink, she thought. Not that Milos was dull, far from it really, but he was still foolish boy with foolish ambitions.

Now this Hero chosen by the Sword however… Yes. There was something more in that head of his. She could practically see the gears turning like clockwork between his ears. He had the manners of a servant, no doubt about it, but there was an acute intelligence in those handsome blue eyes of his. An aptitude for more than flattery and pretty music. Misses Bera just hoped Link would be keen enough to offer the Princess real friendship; depth.

She needed it.

"I'm not sure," Link replied. Misses Bera rose and eyebrow questioningly. For once, the boy offered up more than one sentence. "I don't think she likes me."

"Why's that? Did you say something foolish?" How ironic would that have been. The near-mute boy saying something imprudent.

"I don't know," he replied, the tone of honesty evident in his soft voice.

"Well. Best you find out, dear." Misses Bera tried to offer a courteously warm smile, but his eyes were staring off somewhere else, locked in deep thought.

* * *

Chapter Three

Knighting A Hero

"Announcing his Royal Highness, King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule and his daughter Princess Zelda Nohansen Hyrule!" A massive crowd had gathered in Castle Town square to watch the once in a lifetime show; knighting a Hero that had been chosen by the sword was as rare a thing could be, and so they were quite fervent over the matter. Cheers and applauds erupted from most of them―there were a fair share of sour-faced citizens―as their mighty sovereign marched out onto the stage, waving and smiling, putting on a good show for his people like he always did. It _always_ was a show, but he played the part admirably well.

Zelda, however, was struggling to force such an enthusiastic demeanor onto herself. Standing up straight and regally beside her father was one thing, but smiling and laughing―as if seeing their subjects' praise their presence was of a most benevolent amusement―was another entirely. That, she could not do. Zelda instead focused on the feeling of the object cradled in her arms to distract herself, exploring the fine gilded carvings and smooth lacquered wood beneath her fingers.

"My good people of Hyrule," the King said, raising his hands out to silence their cheers. "Today is a most joyous day, for as I am sure you have heard whispered among the people and cried by the town criers, at last the Master Sword has chosen its wielder." That elicited a louder upheaval of cheering again, which only died with time and more shushing from the King. "I must first thank you, each and every fine soul in the realm of Hyrule, for cooperating and making such an endeavor possible. It was no small task, letting go of your sons and your husbands, leaving fields unsown, horses un-shoed, and fences un-mended so that they may answer the call of their King, and for that you have my eternal gratitude and unequivocal pride to be named sovereign over such noble and honorable people." The King smiled warmly, but Zelda did not sense genuineness in its convincing front.

"It is for that same reason," he said, "that not a hint surprise is within these old bones of mine that the valiant Hylian chosen by the Sword of Evil's Bane is a man of your own upbringing, my people of Hyrule. Not a soldier or a Knight, not a Steward or a Regent, but a simple honest hardworking common man of humble beginnings who has risen among you and answered the call of the Master Sword, freeing it from its pedestal where it had once rested for ten millennia."

 _Ten-thousand years,_ Zelda thought to herself sullenly. Why couldn't it have waited ten-thousand more? It wasn't the first time she had wished for that.

Suddenly something shifting in her peripheral vision caught Zelda's attention, wrenching her from her absentminded musings and back into the present situation. Only then did she realized that her heart was beating rather quickly, and her muscles were bundled tightly around her shoulders, so she focused on controlling her breathing, taking conscious effort to meticulously inhale and exhale at a slow rhythm.

The movement which distracted her, of course, was Link stepping forward and taking a knee before the King, Master Sword clutched carefully in his hands as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

A new tunic had been fitted for him, simple yet suitable for the occasion, and considerably cleaner than his old worn-out gear, but besides that everything about him had remained the same. His eyes were still as stoic and unreadable as ever, and his expression flatter than a paving stone.

 _Odd._ Zelda was certain he would be beaming like a fool with his new title; what Hylian boy didn't dream about becoming a Knight?

"And for such a feat," the King continued. "There is no greater honor I can bestow upon such a man, than to Knight him with the powers vested in me as King." Drawing his own sword from its sheath, Zelda's father considered it heavily in his capable hands and said: "Link of Hateno, Hero that has been chosen by that legendary blade of old, will you accept the title of a Knight of Hyrule, and swear to serve as a protector of Hyrule and her people?"

"Yes, my King," Link answered without hesitation, his eyes cast down at the King's feet.

"Will you hold steadfast to our laws as a purveying force of justice and righteousness in the eyes of Hylia above, through toil and trial, and do all that is in your power to fight back the coming Calamity of reincarnating Evil?"

"I will, my King," Link answered, yet again without hesitation.

"Then I hereby declare in the presence of these honest witnesses that you are knighted." The King lifted his sword and tapped each shoulder of the kneeling Hero before returning his blade to its sheath. "Rise, Sir Link of Hateno, Hero and Master of Evil's Bane."

At that the crowd erupted into its loudest cheer yet, their eyes alight with fervent adoration for their newly knighted Hero, the village boy who was destined to be their champion and savior. And at the deafening sounds of their applauds, Zelda's stomach churned and her chest swelled with…. _Well._ Regret…. Anger? Jealousy? In all her years as Princess, she had never received such an ovation.

The people had never chanted her name, never commended her on a job well done…

Zelda hated feeling that way, she knew it was pitiable vanity; desiring something she had never earned―clearly Link had done _something_ of worth to earn that Sword―but goddess above she yearned for the sweet sensation of success, the feeling of her people rising to cheer her on… the feeling of a father brimming with pride for his daughter. It just wasn't fair!

But when had life ever been fair? Swallowing her pride, Zelda approached the newly knighted Hero, and with the best smile she could muster, she presented a gift to him. It truly was a pretty thing, that elegant scabbard of gold and blue; her father had it commissioned years prior when they first began the search for a Hero to pull the Sword, she was almost sad to see it go. But it had a better use now, in the hands of Sir Link.

Link rose to accept the gift, bowing his head as his sign of gratitude before sheathing the Master Sword in its new home, and buckling its strap across his chest, never a word on his lips. Even now he treated her with silence?

Zelda supposed she deserved it. After all, he was living up to what was expected of him, meanwhile she just wallowed in prayer day after day, ever unsuccessful and disappointing.

The Master Sword even looked like it belonged on his back. As if it was made _just_ for him. The words of her father burned in the back of her mind every time she looked up and saw the hilt of that legendary blade peaking out above his shoulder. _'I want you to take careful note of the Sword in his possession, Zelda. Let it serve as your constant reminder of to what is to come… so that you do not continue to fail.'_

Zelda resolved herself to leave the confines of Hyrule Castle as soon as possible. The thought alone of running into him now and seeing that sword on his back frightened her… made her feel ashamed. She needed to escape, and fast.

 _In the morning, I will ask father for his blessing to leave for Rito Village immediately,_ Zelda told herself, trying to find some sense of comfort in it. One thing was clear, she needed to avoid Link at all costs. At least until she could get her head on straight.

"Smile, Zelda," a deep voice whispered in her ear. "The people are watching." At her father's command, Zelda replaced the smile that she had let slip, and curtsied to the newly knighted Hero, backing away as the crowd nearly devoured the boy with congratulatory claps on the back and wide-eyed handshakes. It wasn't everyday the common man got to meet a living breathing Hero in the flesh.

Zelda never saw him smile, though. Not even once.

* * *

As always, thank you all so much for the reviews! I haven't had a chance to reply to some questions yet, but I will try to get to those later. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even if its a little short.

Up next, Rito Village! Time to meet everyone's favorite/or not so favorite Falco-knock-off: Revali!

Till next time

-Bold


	22. Book 2 Chapter 4

**Note:** I highly recommend you watch the Champions Ballad DLC cut scene for Revali before reading this chapter.

* * *

-Prelude II-

Like she always did, Purah kicked open the meager door that dared oppose her, announcing her arrival with all the masterful showmanship she could muster. And _like always_ , the inhabitants on the other side of said door jumped like silly river frogs, seemingly with the ever living daylights frightened out of them… or at least, Link did jump with alarm, drawing his sword from its sheath resting on the bed in one smooth motion and rolling into a stance fitting of a proper fight.

Purah adjusted the glasses resting loosely on the tip of her nose to take in this _Hero_ in all his… glory.

"My, my, my," she said with a snickering tsk. "You certainly have the build of a Hero… if only a little short." That much was as plain to see as plain could be, considering that Purah had accidently burst in on Link while he was changing in his new room, and he now stood opposite of her bare from the waist up, lean muscles still tense as if expecting a fight. Purah pondered how she should describe him… _well of course,_ he was an exemplary specimen of physical fitness.

 _No wonder poor Zellie gets all worried and tongue tied when she sees him_ , she thought with a wry smile.

At least, that's what she had heard; the servants had been gossiping nonstop about this new _Hero,_ and of those rumors the prevailing theme seemed to be that the Princess was avoiding Link at all costs. And when she _did_ see him, she tensed up until harder than a rock, struggling to learn how to speak the common tongue. Purah rolled her eyes, she thought more of little Zellie than to let some pretty boy get the better of her good senses.

At least―in her good opinion of course―this new Hero looked quite pretty. Almost too pretty, like a girl. Those luscious locks of golden hair of his weren't exactly heaping doses of macho manliness. _But_ she could see how some people would find him to be only of average handsomeness, going by traditional senses. There was no denying those eyes, though… those watery-blues were quite striking.

 _But enough about observations,_ she thought, _time for some real scientific analysis!_

"Put that pointy stick somewhere safer, Sir Link," Purah said, placing her fists on her hips to have the appearance of someone much more intimidating than her borderline midget form could allow. "I'm not some stinky Bokoblin, you know." It took a moment or two, but Link finally eased up a little, and while keeping a trained eye on her he slid the Master Sword back into its sheath. "That's better. Now, Sir Link―can I call you Linky?―oh who am I kidding, of course I can call you Linky! Now, Linky, my name is Purah―yes, a lovely name, I know―and I am Princess Zelda's closest research partner." Purah threw a hand skyward, as if bedazzle the introduction. "But since she's regrettably decided to run off to Rito Village before I even had the chance to speak with her about this whole mess, I have decided to come straight to you for answers."

For a profoundly long time, Link merely stared at her, a thin eyebrow rising slowly.

"After you get a shirt on first, though. Hylia above man, where's your sense of propriety?" Of course, Purah knew full and well who had burst into who's room unannounced, but where was the fun in admitting that out loud? She giggled. A little teasing went a long way in breaking the ice, and he seemed to be made of terribly thick ice.

"What do you want to know?" Link finally asked, turning his back to her as he pulled an old raggedy undershirt on. Why he wanted to wear that old beat up thing, she had no idea.

"Firstly, I want to know if you can hear the voice! If there is one, that is…"

"The voice?" he asked.

"The voice inside the Sword, of course," Purah answered, as if it was common knowledge; as it _should_ have been, she noted. Link's eyebrows knotted quizzically. "Haven't you heard the legends of that blade? That a spirit resides inside it…? You're telling me you don't hear a voice? Nothing at all?"

Link scratched the back of his neck, as if _that_ was some kind of answer.

"Ah, forget about it," Purah blew. "I guess the more important question is well… Can I perform experiments on the Master Sword?" Link's eyebrows knotted even more, so Purah took the liberty of sprinting across the room and helplessly tugging on the front of his shirt.

 _Maybe he'll fall for the damsel in distress ploy,_ she thought with an invisible smirk. She always wanted to be an actress… Well, only second to wanting to be a scientist, of course.

"Oh please, oh please, oh please?" she cried. "Its so very important for my research! If I can determine how the Master Sword was created, then perhaps I can make copies of it!" Link stepped back cautiously, prying her hands off of the front of his tattered shirt. "Oh, can you imagine if I were successful!? Ganon may have a walk in the park fighting one man with the Sword that Seals the Darkness, but can you imagine a whole army of soldiers packing that kind of power!? Please, Linky, I won't be able to sleep until I try, pleeeeeeease?"

"Do what you want with it," he said curtly, having freed himself from her hands.

 _That easily?_ She had expected him to put up a fight about it. After all, it was _his_ sword now! "Oh… well… very good! Of course, you are smart enough to know what's best, Mister Linky!" Running to his bed, Purah gathered the Master Sword and its sheath in both arms, nearly dropping it the moment it was in her grasp fully. The thing was unbearably heavy! How was he supposed to swing _that_ thing around? It was like carrying a load of bricks!

"I'll get this back to you by tonight, if you need it," Purah declared, dragging the Master Sword back to the door excitedly. Already she was devising brilliant ideas in that tiny head of hers on how she was to test and replicate such a wonderfully mysterious weapon.

"Keep it as long as you need," Link answered almost as a grunt, pulling an equally tattered tunic over his shirt and buckling a wide belt around his waist.

"Oh…" That was surprising. "Well. Thank you! You won't be disappointed." Purah hesitated. "Say, where are you going anyways?" By then, Link was fully dressed and was beginning to heft a leather travel pack up over his shoulders, and a quiver and bow across his back, looking like a ranger readying for a long hunt.

"South. I'll be back in a few days," was all he said, swiftly marching passed Purah and leaving through to wide open door of his room.

 _Sure is a strange man, that Hero,_ Purah noted with scholarly curiosity, pushing her glasses up. But at any rate, strange man or not, he had given her permission to study the one and only Master Sword with unrestricted access, which meant she'd be up all night… and likely the night after that, testing, tinkering, and analyzing away as any dedicated Sheikah scientist would. If she could keep her eyes open for that long, that is.

And so, with many huffs and puffs of immense effort, Purah dragged the Master Sword back to her laboratory, entirely deaf to the incessant callings of a sword to its master.

* * *

Chapter Four

Answers on the Wind

Milos seemed far too captivated with the little ones of Rito Village to want to join them on the trip to the Flight Range, so Zelda did not ask. After all, he had volunteered to accompany her this far, leaving the comfort of the courts in Hyrule Castle just so that he could entertain her with his beautiful music; she felt that he deserved a quick respite before they would inevitably hit the open road again.

Besides, given the nature of the excursion, Zelda figured it would be wiser for only Sir Alaric and his comrade to join her, and no one else. She was about to ask Revali to undertake a very demanding and dangerous venture, by no means a very impersonal thing.

And so, with the blessing of the village elder, Kenali, the Princess left her bard to the children as he plucked a melodious ballad alongside their silvery birdsongs, smiling contentedly at his apparently newly acquired students. She made sure to don her warmest clothes, since there were low hanging clouds over the mountain range to the far north, dumping a plentiful deluge of snow on the already white peaks. Zelda felt bad for Sir Alaric and his second man; they were going into that freezing mess wearing those cold heavy suits of armor, but it was just one of those things you had to put up with when traversing the wilds of Hyrule.

The ride itself was a simple one, however. After they had retrieved their horses from the stable on the main land, just east of the spire-like rock formation Rito Village was founded upon, they saddled and mounted up, following the road due west. Always remaining just beside the cliffsides, the road arched widely north until the terrain began to shift from breezy pines and cool air, to rocky mountains and downright freezing gales. Snow began drifting down atop their heads within the hour. For nearly half the day they marched at an easy pace, and despite the cold, Zelda was feeling far more hopeful and upbeat than she had in nearly a week.

The castle was far away, her father wasn't there breathing down her back, and most importantly there wasn't a certain Knight with a certain Sword silently standing over her, heralding a constant reminder of the coming doom they must face and the consequences of her continued failure. That whole lot she forced right out from her mind and focused on the path ahead.

It was as pleasant a ride as she could ask for.

Before long however, when the sun was hanging just above them, cutting through the swiftly shifting clouds ahead, Sir Alaric rode up beside her and said, "seems we are here, Princess." He pointed with an exact finger far ahead, well passed a dilapidated Sheikah Shrine buried against the mountains. A narrow valley was cut between the faces of the cliff range there, and just beyond that stood a small wooden hut overlooking an immense abyss that howled with the winds of a hurricane.

The valley widened into an unusually round void in the mountains there, which came as no surprise since that is where Robbie and his team of researchers had first found and excavated Vah Medoh those short few years ago. Zelda was glad that the Rito tribe had found a use for that gaping hole that they had left in their land. It seemed that Robbie and his team had accidently harnessed the winds of the mountains in their geographical meddling and redirected it into a perpetual vortex spewing gusts of wind skyward.

An unusual, but not inherently negative accident.

After all, Revali seemed to be making quite the show of it, soaring upwards like an arrow fired from a bow. Zelda dismounted her horse alongside her escorts―being careful not to upset the beast, she still seemed incapable of riding with true confidence―and diligently made her way further down the pass until she was within speaking distance of Revali's launch pad. She watched with awe filled eyes as he seemed to levitate in the air effortlessly as the winds spun violently around him, stirring the falling snow into a whirlwind of white. _Yes…_ he was the one she was looking for. The Princess was quite certain no other Rito was capable of such a feat as that.

However, that awe turned to fright when suddenly Revali teetered slightly and was jerked to one side as the gale of his own making thrust him out jarringly, sending him earthbound like a meteorite. With an audible crash, the Rito archer impacted in the snow, lying face first. Zelda's first instinct was to run out and help check on him, but before she could, Revali abruptly grunted with pain, and began berating himself as he dragged himself upright to his talons.

"Not enough," he groaned, struggling for breath. "I must stay in the eye of the whirlwind… must push myself harder…" Zelda took a step, but came to a stop when emerald eyes shot up at her dispraisingly. Having recovered himself, Revali smoothed his roughed-up feathers and looked away before saying, "you know your highness, its rude to eavesdrop." Did he know that she was coming before hand, Zelda wondered? Had her father sent word ahead of her? Or had the rumor of the King's decision to enroll pilots for the Divine Beasts make its way this far on the wings of the Rito Couriers? Whichever the answer, it seemed that Revali had been expecting her.

"My apologies," Zelda began, "I went to the village and I was told I could find you here…"

"You have need of me," Revali answered confidently, perhaps a bit of pride entering his tone as he finally turned back to face her. "To defeat Calamity Ganon. To slay the beast once and for all… it would be my great pleasure"

"Thank you, Revali. If we all work together, I'm certain we will be able to defeat―"

"However!" the Rito interrupted, his wings unfurling as he crouched low. Zelda noticed the delicate snowflakes falling around them began to shimmer and stir again, and as before, a great whirlwind suddenly roared to life, swirling like the winds of a hurricane as it enveloped the Rito warrior. And with a power kick from his legs and wings, Revali soared upwards into the sky once again, higher and higher than ever before.

And what happened next made the Princess's stare in open-mouthed awe.

Gliding on the residual winds of his updraft, Revali began to dive straight down into the abyss. With the precision and confidence of a warrior who had spent countless years mastering his craft, the Rito archer drew his bow back, the tips of his arrow-heads sparklingly like Sheikah fireworks, and in a flurry of effortless motions unleashed a barrage of ear deafening attacks on the countless targets littered throughout the mountain range.

Explosion after explosion erupted with every twang of his bow, and in their wake wooden splinters of his hopeless, inanimate prey scattered across the abyss in balls of bright fire.

Zelda had never seen such a display―such a show of mastery of the sky and bow―that by the time his performance had finished, and his arrows expended, she was left inarguably speechless as the proud bird perched himself on the railing of his little wooden hut, the fitting image of balance and aerodynamic gracefulness personified.

"I know I play the biggest part in helping that, ahem… that little Knight with the darkness-sealing sword correct?" Even at a distance Zelda could see the pleased smirk upon the crest of his beak. "Well, if he loses confidence after seeing me in action, don't come crying to me."

 _Well…_ she thought, with no small amount of anxiousness. How in the world was she to follow up something like that? Regardless however, even as she struggled to find the right words to say, a little flicker of hope kindled in Zelda's heart… she had found her first Champion, and he seemed more than eager to fill the role!

* * *

Hope you enjoyed, I know this chapter is pretty much just capturing what is already in the game, but it is integral to the story. Next chapter will be back into more original parts. I haven't decided yet if I will write chapters that rehash the other cut scenes from the Champions Ballad DLC, since it kinda just seems repetitive and frankly a little boring to write parts of the story that already exist (unless they're very thought driven ones, like some of the main story cutscenes are), so please do let me know what you think.

I will of course have chapters that will lead up to the cutscenes and chapters directly afterwards, so don't worry about that, I'm just still toying around with the idea of how I can write them in interesting ways.

Wish me luck,

-Bold


	23. Book 2 Chapter 5

**Note:** Be sure to watch Daruk's Cutscence from the Champions Ballad DLC before reading this chapter.

Also, I hope you guys and gals wont mind if I make a slight change to the dialog from the original scene, I'm taking a little creative freedom in this instance to make it fit my story a bit better. The change (that you _might_ notice) is very, very small, and inconsequential to the plot, so I think that it is acceptable and not offensive to the source material.

Obviously, I want to stay true to the original story as much as possible, but sometimes that can really crunch down on a writer's ability to be creative.

Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

* * *

-Prelude III-

 _Today I saw someone bein' attacked when I was out lookin' for lunch rocks at the peak. He was a little tiny guy, so I rushed down the mountain to help him. I was shocked to find he was handy with a sword! By the time I rolled his way, he'd already taken out all the monsters! I couldn't help but admire his Goron-like strength. While I was distracted, a monster almost got the jump on me. He stopped it. The Great Daruk...saved by a tiny Hylian. I must have had a dopey look on my face when that happened. Hope he didn't notice._

 _That little Hylian from before is named Link. He's got a respectable appetite. Loves to eat meat, fruit, vegetables... all sorts of things a decent person wouldn't dream of eating. Link will cook up and eat just about anything. I offered him some Grade A rock roast to help refine his palette. I asked him how it tasted. He liked it so much, he was speechless. I never knew Hylians could eat rocks too. Eating isn't the only thing Link and I have in common. The little guy is also incredibly strong! He said sometimes when he focuses, it feels like time slows down. Heh! I really like that guy. He's the type of guy you can trust to have your back and also have a nice hearty meal with. Yeah! That settles it! From now on, Link is an official brother._

 _-Daruk's Training Journal, Pages 3-4_

* * *

"That rusty sword of yours has seen better days, Brother," Daruk laughed, clapping Link on the back. The little guy staggered forward, almost stumbling on the loose gravel of the road they were walking together. He had volunteered to accompany his new Brother to the borders of the Eldin mountains, just in case anymore Bokoblins decided to jump him twenty to one again.

"Oops! Sorry. Sometimes I forget you Hylian's are so light on your feet." Daruk hoped Link didn't notice him flush with embarrassment; his Pa always told him to look out for people smaller than you, and to be delicate with them. A Goron's honor, that was, keeping the little guys and gals of the world safe!

Luckily, Link didn't seem upset by it at all. He merely smiled―a very, very small one, but a smile all the same―and waved his hand as if it was nothing at all.

"Well," Daruk continued with a deep rumbled, "if you ever want a _real_ weapon, little guy, just come see me up on Death Mountain again. We've got hammers, sledges, even pick axes that would fair better than that old thing."

"It was just one that I found on the way," Link explained, tying the hilt to his waist with a strip of linen cloth. "I have a better one…" He paused. "Back home."

"Say, where is home for you?"

"Hateno Village," Link replied.

"Ah, never been there." Daruk scratched his head thoughtfully, thick fingers running through the tufts of his coarse white hair. "Is that where you're going now?"

"Zora's Domain first, actually. And then to Hateno… to home."

"Mm. Home. A good thing, that. You got family down there in Hateno?" Link went silent. Daruk looked down at him with a hint of concern… he was awful thoughtful about such a simple question.

"My mother lives there," Link finally answered, his eyebrows working and knotting thoughtfully on his forehead. "Guess I just wanted to see her. Don't know when I'll get the chance again."

"Oh? Why's that, Brother?" There was something a little off about Link now, Daruk noticed. Back up at the mountain when they were sharing a mighty feast, he was much louder and… cheerier looking?

 _Ah… I'm sure it's nothing,_ he told all, Daruk had to admit he never was very good a reading Hylian's expressions―there were just so many of them, sometimes they made faces that just weren't right to how they were _really_ feeling, and then in the blink of an eye they could change it as if it were nothing at all.

"I got a new job," Link said, scratching the back of his neck. "I think its going to keep me away for a long time."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, little guy." Daruk patted the Hylian's head―something he had seen older Hylians do to children before when they wanted to be nice―and then beat a closed fist over his own heart as a show of solidarity. "Well, if you're ever near Death Mountain again, than you can stop by and see all your new Brothers! I know we aren't much like mothers―we don't know what a mother is like, you see―but we know how to be good Brothers."

"Thank you, Daruk," Link said with his biggest smiled Daruk had seen yet. It almost made him wonder if all the other smiles were not quite as authentic as he thought…

Hylians were strange folk, that was for sure. "Anytime, Brother."

Much later down the road, Daruk gave his new brother one last hearty clap on the back and bid him goodbye, watching the little guy weave his way through the rough terrain separating the realm of the Gorons and the domain of the Zora. He hoped he'd see him again soon.

"Stay safe out there, Brother!" He shouted for good measure, but he didn't think the little guy heard him.

It was funny. Now that he thought about it, Link seemed an awful lot like how he had heard the new Hero chosen by the Sword described. Gossip had been spreading like wild fire across Hyrule thanks to the Rito Couriers, and they all told of a young golden-headed Hylian lad freeing the Master Sword from its pedestal in that far off temple somewhere in Hyrule; rumor had it he was trained personally by the greatest Hylian swordsman to have ever lived.

Well, Link definitely handled a sword better than any little Hylian he had ever seen. But then again, his knowledge of Hylians always was a little sparing. Besides, he was swinging around that old rusty longsword he found on the road, not some legendary blade that kills monsters. Daruk chuckled to himself, finding his little thought experiment to be of some amusement.

* * *

Chapter Five

Courage of the Mountain

"Ah, count me in tiny Princess!" Zelda stifled a bubbly laughter hearing Daruk's deep bellied answer. She had always had a soft spot for the massive Goron with an even bigger heart, ever since the first time she had ever met him during a diplomatic summit her father brought her along for. She was very young then, perhaps a year or two older than when she had lost her mother, but Daruk's warm spirit never let her dwell on such sad things.

There were not many souls in Hyrule that possessed such sincerity, and for that, she treasured Daruk more than any diamond or jewel that ever came from the mines of his homeland: Death Mountain.

"I'm the fearless Daruk, after all," the Goron continued, shaking his fist with utter surety. "And if Hyrule needs my help, I'll gladly lay down my life."

"Thank you, Daruk," Zelda replied warmly, which made the towering Goron smile with a child-like grin. The Princess sighed with relief. That was two Champions down, and only two more to go. Things were looking up for them now! After a quick stop at Hyrule Castle two days prior, the Princess had Purah send Robbie and his team to go help Revali make the necessary adjustments to Vah Medoh so that he could pilot her with as much ease as they could manage, though the task would likely take some time.

She just hoped Daruk would take to Vah Rudania easily; he always had been a little clumsy with his immense size. Not that she could hold it against him.

"Not sure if its Calamity Ganon's fault or what," Daruk began, changing the subject suddenly. "But I hear monsters have been attacking people more than ever lately… Times like these you shouldn't leave the castle without a horde of mighty Gorons to watch your back."

"You sound like Father," she answered thoughtfully, glancing back at Sir Alaric and his second man. "But I find that my Appointed Knight is more than capable of ensuring my safety. I would hate to have anyone replace him, he's been at my side ever since I was very young." Her Knight did not reply to her praise, but a small proud smile did appear on his lips. Daruk hummed ponderously.

"What about this new Hero that pulled the Master Sword?" he asked, scratching his chin. "Shouldn't he be at your side now… you know, since we never know what could happen next." It was a grim observation. One that made Zelda freeze up with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach… she hadn't thought of that yet.

In all honesty, she was just glad to have narrowly avoided Link again after returning from Rito Village. It was surprising to hear that he had suddenly packed up and left with only promises to return eventually, but even more so when she found Purah in her laboratory, dark bags drooping under her eyes from sleeplessness, prodding and sampling and examining every inch of the Master Sword with her strange tools.

Apparently, she wanted to try to create replicas of the legendary blade. Zelda herself didn't see much use in it; a blade like that was beyond the making of mortal hands, but Purah was very insistent on the matter. Regardless, she supposed there was no harm in trying.

Still, she was just still astonished that Link was so willing to give up the Master Sword to her so soon, without hesitation.

"I'm sure Sir Link's skills will be more applicable elsewhere," Zelda finally replied, trying her best to not sound peevish.

"Hm… Well, if you think―" Daruk's words suddenly fell short, when his eyes snapped forward and his stance lowered threateningly. It was just a few dozen yards ahead of them that a band of gangly little beasts began to creep across the rocky path ahead, swinging crude clubs and spears above their heads as they squealed like boars on the hunt.

"They really are all over the place these days," Daruk said with no small amount of disgust, watching the horde of Bokoblins as they carried on with their mischiefs. It wasn't long until they determined the object of their mischiefs. "Hm? Is someone being attacked?" Drawing his massive weapon, Daruk readied himself to run the horde down and spat. "Cowards! Wait here, Princess."

With a rumbling war cry, Daruk charged the horde of puny Bokoblins, swinging his mighty greatsword like a force of nature, and sent the squealing grunts soaring with ever stroke. In no time at all, he had dispatched of their leaders, and sent the rest sprawling down the mountain, taunting them.

"Hmph! Spineless little cuccos! No monster stands a chance when fighting me, the all might Daruk!" With a splitting smile, Daruk laughed deeply from his belly, reveling in his triumph over the nasty little beasts. Zelda rushed over to meet him, and to see who they had meant to attack.

To her surprise however, it wasn't any Hylian or Goron that cowered behind the mound of rocks the Bokoblins had surrounded, but in fact a trembling herd dog.

The poor thing had lowered itself on the ground, pressing up against the sides of the rocks as it shook with fear, but when Zelda knelt down and held her arms out, the shaggy animal emerged from his hiding spot.

"You're safe," she reassured it, holding her arms out invitingly. To her surprise―and delight―the hound leapt into her arms, wagging his tail and licking her face with all the friendly warmth any loyal sheepdog would have. "It seems our friend here was the one being attacked. Precious boy. You saved his life." Zelda looked over her shoulder to thank Daruk for his actions, however when she did, she came upon the sight of something most unusual.

The _all mighty_ Daruk, fearless warrior and leader of the Goron people, was trembling with utter horror, staring the dog down with beady eyes that narrowed with fear… He was afraid of dogs!?

"Well…" The whole ordeal was comical. To think that such a courageous soul could be brought to tremors by a hound. He only mustered the courage to stand once Zelda had sent the sweet dog along his way, smilingly brightly as it turned back and barked, as if to say _'thanks'_ and _'goodbye.'_

"Good riddance…" Daruk shouted anxiously, then added "and stay safe. I'm sorry you had to see that side of me." The shaken Goron rubbed a meaty hand over his face, covering his embarrassed flushness. That same bubbly laughter that Zelda had quelled earlier was on the verge of exploding now. He truly was such a benevolent soul. "As a kid, dogs always chased me," he explained. "I still panic when I see one of those critters." Clasping her hands behind her back, Zelda grinned with amusement.

"I never imagined the great Daruk would have a weakness." The Goron looked away, hiding his red-tinted face.

"So tell me… Princess…"

"Yes?"

"Calamity Ganon isn't uh… some kind of dog monster, is he?"

The odd question sat idly in the air for a moment, but like a needle puncturing a soap bubble, Zelda's carefully contained laughter burst through, and she held her sides as she giggled, then laughed at her dear Champion's expense. But he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he began to laugh on his own accord, scratching that signature beard of his.

 _Oh Daruk…_ She couldn't have been happier that he had agreed to pilot Vah Rudania. She was going to need his friendly warmness in the coming trials. Hylia knew she had few friends at all among her own kind.

* * *

 _Hyrule's little princess came to Goron City and asked me to pilot the Divine Beast. I said yes. The Great Daruk never turns down someone in need! When I said I would, the princess seemed really happy. There will be four Champions to control four Divine Beasts, and one swordsman to take on Ganon. Including the princess, our anti-Ganon team is six strong, made up of all different kinds of people. This has the makings of an epic feast. I got the ball rollin' by giving the princess my best rock roast. She said thanks, but...I think she was holdin' back a grimace. Must have had somethin' foul on her mind._

 _Daruk's Journal, page 5_

* * *

Hope you all enjoyed! Looking forward to next time!

-Bold


	24. Book 2 Chapter 6

**Note:** Be sure to watch Urbosa's cutscene from the Champions Ballad DLC before this chapter.

I know these aren't particularly original chapters, but I still felt them important enough to put on paper. I hope you folks are still enjoying it, but I understand if you aren't particularly enthused by them. I promise things will pick back up after this chapter, Mipha's chapter, and then finally the Champions Ceremony… so three to be precise!

From there its once more into the breach, my friends, and I am stoked to write it!

* * *

-Prelude IV-

 _Link came to visit the domain. It feels like forever since he was here last. He no longer resembles the child I first met. He is now an accomplished knight and keeper of the sword that seals the darkness. I am so proud. However... He hardly speaks anymore, and smiles even more rarely. He is still the kind soul I knew, but something has changed. I asked him if something had happened, if something was wrong. He merely shook his head. Perhaps it is his newly acquired height, but I feel he is ever looking past me, into the distance beyond..._

 _Mipha's Diary, page 3_

* * *

Mipha set aside her journal, carefully closing it so that no one could _accidentally_ read its contents unbidden.

"Will you be staying long?" Gazing out on the sapphire mountain peaks of their home, Link seemed lost in thought. He had been like that a lot ever since he had arrived that morning. It worried Mipha, but she wasn't sure how to handle it, how to address it. When they were young Link never hesitated to tell her what was bothering him… but now. Now he was as closed as an unyielding mussel.

"Only till tomorrow," he answered, decidedly, glancing over his shoulder. A breeze rolled through on the highlands of Upper Zorana and tugged at the loose trusses of his golden hair, and Mipha could not help but remark how handsome he had become; his eyes being his most striking feature by far.

That all but familiar fluttering sensation in her beat in Mipha's chest like the fluttering of a bird's wings… She hadn't felt that in a very long time.

"So soon? I was hoping you would stay…" _For what? The summer… the year?_ He had responsibilities now, more so now than ever, having pulled the Master Sword from its pedestal. And none of those responsibilities would bring him any closer to Zora's Domain more than strictly necessary. No matter how much she wished it so. "You've been gone so long."

"I need to see my mother before returning to the castle… I don't know when I will get the chance again."

"Your mother?" So that was where he had spent the last four years? Link never spoke much of home when they were children together. In fact, he hardly remembered anything from his boyhood other than that he was from Hateno―at least, that's what he claimed he could recall, she always wondered if there was more to it―but now that he said it, Mipha thought it perfectly logical. Why wouldn't he return to his place of birth after his master's untimely death those short few years ago?

Looking at her as if he understood what musings whirled on in her mind, Link simply nodded in reply.

"I suppose it would only be natural," Mipha sighed disappointedly, though she tried to hide it as best she could. "I am glad to hear you found your mother… Surprised, if I'm honest, but so very glad! Did she recognize you when you first came home?"

"Not at first," he replied, turning his head back out to observe the mountains in all their majesty. "But it didn't take long." Silence fell between them for a long time after that, giving Mipha ample time to ponder and wonder all the sorts of wonderful adventures and things Link could have been up to in their time apart, but suddenly Link faced her, having had his fill of sightseeing and said, "I was happy…"

Then he hesitated, as if he were unsure of what to say next.

"I was happy there," Link continued, "in Hateno. The living was simple, but I was content with resigning myself to becoming a rancher, or a farmer. A hunter perhaps. Anything really. I thought I'd settle down, maybe start a family someday…" Mipha felt her cheeks begin to burn, though she tried to ignore the reason why. "But now. Well."

"…What?" In a single breath Link's expression must have changed two or three times, but so very slightly that she could have thought it merely an illusion of her imagination. Frustration was there, she thought, and then a sad reluctance, but then in the blink of an eye, his face fell flat and stony.

"Duty takes precedence," Link finally answered, his gaze held elsewhere. "That is what Sir Hamish always said. And I have plenty of duty to keep me enslaved for years to come."

* * *

Chapter Six

A Mother of the Sands

 _Emissaries from Hyrule came to see me today. They informed me that I have been chosen to pilot the Divine Beast. My people are uneasy about it. They tell me such a dangerous task is not fitting for the chief. I understand their fear. However, I intend to accept this task. Calamity Ganon's resurrection does not only threaten Hyrule, but the whole world. I refuse to sit idly by. Ganon is also closely associated with the Gerudo...an association I deeply resent. I believe Zelda will be here soon to receive my official answer. I am excited to see her, as always._

 _Urbosa's Diary, page 4_

* * *

Their meeting had gone extraordinarily well. Not that Zelda had ever worried about it, Urbosa had been the least of her worries as far as tracking down pilots for the four Divine Beasts. But still, it sent a surge of relief through her bones knowing that three of her four destined Champions were decided upon.

"Did you enjoy my little show of chieftain prowess? It certainly had your little escorts shivering in their skirts." Urbosa let out a reeling laugh that fit her powerful frame quite well―deep and rough yet feminine and beautiful, in Zelda's opinion. "Poor things look like they haven't seen a day of fighting in their lives."

Zelda joined in her laughter. Of course, the Gerudo Chieftess wasn't far off. Her temporary escorts were little more than maidservants with daggers hastily tied to their ankles as any means of proper weaponry. Since men were not permitted within the walls of the town, Zelda had Sir Alaric rent a room at the nearby bazaar, with orders to simply enjoy himself and soak in the local life of the desert folk, care free. Of course, it took a little convincing―and a rather firm order―to make her loyal Knight do as he was told, but in due time he agreed without further argument.

Not that it really mattered. She was as safe within and out of the walls of Gerudo Town as she was within the keeps of Hyrule Castle. Even more so with her beloved friend and motherly advisor at her side. After all, Urbosa's skills in combat were legendary, and a far as she knew, unchallenged.

"I've never seen you so serious, Urbosa!" The comment made Urbosa's smirk all the more sharp under the pale moonlight of the desert, where the sands shifted beneath their feet as they strolled side by side.

"Oh my, I cant say the same," the tall Gerudo replied, seriously, shifting a shapely hand onto her left hip. "Ten years ago, you rarely smiled, my little bird."

"Urbosa," Zelda began, matching the calm gravity of her companions' tone. "I feel like you've called me little bird before. I was wondering where you got that name from." The Princess waited for a reply, but it wasn't until she looked back that she realized Urbosa had lagged behind. The Gerudo's stance had widened, and immediately Zelda realized that Urbosa had sensed an imposing threat. Confidently, her hand came to rest on the hilt of her sword.

"Halt. And face me," she commanded, turning to stare down two Hylian travelers that had passed by them unperturbedly. Zelda could not say what tipped Urbosa off, but there was no mistaking the fierce look in her emerald eyes; there were troublemakers afoot, and _she_ was going to put an end to them. "Unlike you traitors I prefer to face my enemies head on."

Drawing her curved blade in one smooth motion, Urbosa challenged the two travelers to begin the deadly dance of the sands. "Do your worst."

Suddenly, the two travelers vanished from sight behind the bright and loud screen of a Sheikah smoke bomb, only to reemerge donned in the tight cloaks of the renowned Yiga Clan marauders. Their sickles were bare and shining in the slanting rays of the desert moon, and with snickering laughs they launched themselves at Urbosa with the speed and agility fitting of any Sheikah Shadow warrior.

Blades crashed and steel screeched as the Yiga bandits assaulted the Gerudo chief with pitiable tactics, but with all the grace and form she was revered for, Urbosa repelled each and every attack swing for swing, parrying one blade with her round shield, and calling upon the ancestral power of her people to call forth lighting from a cloudless sky, electrocuting her foes till they screamed in anguish.

Standing over them victoriously, blade in hand, Urbosa spat down at them and said, "out of respect for our Princess, you may keep your lives. Now go." The Yiga men sneered beneath their faceless masks, but having spent the last of their energy they begrudgingly retreated, vanishing once again with a bright flash and smoke. Fluttering paper cards bearing the Yiga sigil were the only signs left of their attack; a message made perfectly clear to any who had hunted their kind before.

 _They would return._

Zelda stood equal parts shocked and in awe of what had happened, when suddenly Urbosa spoke in a low and solemn tone. "You asked me why I call you little bird," she began, sheathing her blade. "When you were but a small child… my dear friend called you that, with the sweetest smile that had ever graced our land of Hyrule." In an instant, the weight and significance of her words bore down on Zelda's heart…

"…You mean Mother…" It was barely more than a whisper.

"It was ten long years ago," she sighed. "Your mother had left this world, yet her little bird still spread her wings and became the beacon of light Hyrule needed." Perhaps it was no surprise at all that tears began to well in Zelda's eyes. As much as she wanted to believe Urbosa's kind words, she could not bring herself to accept them.

 _A beacon of light, s_ he had she ever even come close to filling her mother's place? Ever since that day, her father had never been the same… He had lost that familiar light in his eyes, that gentleness that once looked down at her. Ever since that day her people had lost its beloved queen and, in her place, stood a mere shadow of what once was… A failure destined to succeed in nothing. Goddess, how it hurt to see it so, but Zelda could not see it any other way.

"Sometimes I forget myself and get lost in the past."


	25. Book 2 Chapter 7

**Note:** Be sure to watch Mipha's cutscene from the Champions Ballad DLC before reading this chapter.

Again, I am making a slight addition to this chapter as compared to the original cutscene. Nothing to big, but I thought it would make it fit a little better with what I've written so far.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Seven

The Princess of the Waters

It had been quite the surprise when Zelda learned that Link had visited Zora's Domain barely a week prior to her arrival. Naturally, the circumstantial coincidence made those ever-spinning gears in her head turned even faster, and a list of endless questions began to gnaw away at her consciousness. Were Link and Mipha childhood friends or was he merely the servant and fellow student of the Zora Princesses' old instructor, Sir Hamish? She certainly spoke of Link with familiarity, in an oddly bashful way; although Zelda dismissed that as merely Mipha being her usual shy-natured self.

But that did not answer the question she was cautious to ask… did Mipha truly _know_ Link?

She must have, considering he had visited the Domain for seemingly no other reason than to see her and her father, to pay his respects or otherwise. But perhaps he had other friends within the realm of the Zora? Perhaps he merely wanted to brag among his old classmates about freeing the Master Sword from its pedestal? After all, King Dorephan himself praised the young swordsman for his skills in the blade, holding his abilities well above his own daughter, or any Zora that found tutelage under Sir Hamish for that matter…

But none of that answered the questions that burned on the forefront of her mind. The one she was strangely anxious to ask.

Perhaps it was because she was scared of what the answer could be. Perhaps she was terrified to hear that Mipha _did_ know Link remarkably well, and that she―like her father―held him in a light of awe for his capabilities. Perhaps she was worried that Mipha was yet another soul that looked up to the simple village boy who was chosen by the Master Sword itself, raising him to a status heard of only in the Legends of Old, leaving the young inept Hylian princess in the dust of his achievement.

Zelda _was_ scared to find yet another reason to admit her continued failure in unlocking her birthright, while another achieved his destiny with inarguable success.

"So, Princess… may I ask who the other Champion's are?" The question caught Zelda off guard, stirring her from her darkening musings. She had to center herself in the present before forming an answer.

"Goron vigilance Daruk," she said with a pause. "Rito confidence, Revali. Gerudo Spirit, Urbosa…" _And._ She hadn't thought about it till then, though the idea didn't exactly bring any warm feelings. "And also… the Hylian with the Sword that Seals the Darkness. Link." Another thought occurred to her then. If Link was her fifth Champion, then that meant she would need to craft a garment of the same blue she had or was going to make for the others. That idea didn't bring any warm feelings either. But she supposed, like many things, it just had to be done, regardless of her feelings.

"Oh…" Mipha tightened her grip on the tall trident in her possession. An odd response, but Zelda did not question it.

The Zora princess seemed willing to change the subject then, for reasons Zelda assumed was Mipha detecting the irritability of the closed-off nature of her current relations with Sir Link―rumors had been spreading like wild fire, after all―and thought it better to speak of other things. Mipha was a very keen observer to say the least, and incredibly receptive to the nuances of body language.

"You know, for many years, heights terrified me beyond belief," the Zora suddenly said, leaning over the precipice of the observation deck they stood on, towering above the lake below. The object of her interest was her young brother, Sidon, who for all his rambunctiousness was a rather timid child at times. He floated in the gentle pool of the waterfall, gazing up to his sister with wide amber eyes that silently pleaded to be with them.

Even after he had expressly told not follow them, and to stay with his nanny, the young Zora prince couldn't help himself in wanting to follow his sister where ever she went. He idolized her, even when he was just a small fry, and would swim just about anywhere his little fins could take him. However, the massive waterfall that loomed before him was the first major obstacle impeding his success.

"I would freeze up just looking over the edge, to great detriment," Mipha continued, with a note of solemnness. "But after Sidon's birth I took it upon myself to conquer that fear…" She glanced over to Zelda, and a small but warm smile broke across her thin lips. "I just couldn't stand the idea of not being brave enough for my dear little brother… he needs someone to look up to, you see. Someone to show him the way of the world, to teach him courage and forbearance. And if his sister is frightened by something so trivial, then I have failed my duty as the first born." Shouting down to the small childing wading in the pool below, Mipha called out and said, "Sidon. Hurry and swim up here!"

"Mipha, perhaps he is still too young to swim up the big waterfall." The little fry was just barely three. And even though Zora children experienced explosive growth in their first year or two, it would take a dramatic halt till their pubescence, where they would acquire new height and agility commonly associated with young adolescence. Mipha herself was still not even close to full grown adulthood. In fact, if her father was anything to go by, she could easily grow to be well over six feet someday―though that would take at least a century of development.

"One day Princess, I must leave him," the Zora princess replied, clasping a webbed hand over her left breast. "To face my fate with Ruta." And with that said, she smiled and dove over the edge of the waterfall, riding its rushing currents as surely and as gracefully as any Zora could. It seemed that she had done more than just conquer her fear of heights. She found a new strength within it.

Zelda watched in wide-eyed wonder as Mipha splashed into the swirling pool, sending rippling waves to the shore where her young brother waded. Words passed between them, though she could not hear it, and as quick as she had gone down, the Zora Princess took her brother on her shoulders and leapt back into the roaring falls, every stroke of her fins launching her upwards against all odds―against every pull of gravity―and flew skyward, the water she left in her wake sparklingly like starlight under the bright morning sun.

Just as Zelda had been in awe of Urbosa, Daruk, and Revali for their feats of incredible strength and skill, so too was she in awe of the Zoranic princess as she summersaulted overhead, landing deftly on her feet, young brother in tow. Sidon shook himself with a fearful tremor but faced his sister with his adoring gaze all the same.

"Sweet Sidon," she said, kneeling before him and running a thin finger under his chin affectionately. "Should fate ever part us… I'm counting on you to protect our beloved home from harm." She stroked his cheek, still wide and pink with juvenility and smile. "Understood?"

The Zora prince's only response was a timid nod.

"I believe in you. Now. Shall we try one more time?" To that, the Zora prince smiled brightly, his lips parting widely, showing off his bright white teeth endearingly. There was so much gentility in such a young smile, but it was endearingly becoming of the small prince. Mipha could hardly contain a laugh as she rubbed his head with all the warmth and fondness she had in her bones.

And not for the first time in her life, Zelda wished dearly for something she never had.

Sadly however, she knew that wish would never come true. She was the _only_ daughter of the King of Hyrule. She would have to face her duties as the sole inheritor of the throne alone. There was no contingency, no backup, and more importantly, no sibling to dote on.

* * *

Later that day, Sir Alaric reined his horse in beside her with a markedly concerned glint in his squinting eyes. The sun was setting behind the mountain ranges to the west, casting a direct golden light on the gravel road their horses treaded on. It was a breathtaking view, the countryside of Hyrule, but Zelda hardly noticed it now. She had been staring at the horn of her saddle mostly.

"Princess, is everything all right?" Her Appointed Knight asked, hovering a hand in front of his eyes to block out the setting sun. "You haven't said a word since we left the Domain." Stirring herself, Zelda answered with a vulnerable honesty.

"I suppose I'm just worried about the future," she sighed.

"How so?" he asked gently. "I thought you'd be ecstatic now that your Champions have all been chosen."

"I am, really… Its just…" _Is it enough?_ The tales Impa had once told her spoke of a beast that took a whole army of autonomous soldiers and mobile fortresses to combat it with the help of a Hero, and most importantly, a Descendent of Hylia wielding the Sacred Power. And as it stood, even with pilots for the Divine Beasts, and a Hero, there was an unnerving lack of Sacred Power, and an army that could do the job of Hyrule's soldiers without causality.

"I fear that we are too optimistic for our future," she explained. "Things certainly look better, yes, but there is still so much we don't know. What if the Calamity springs its traps tomorrow? What can we hope to do?"

"We can have faith, your majesty," Alaric answered as stalwartly as always. Even in his mature age, Sir Alaric had always been an idealist; a trait that had never left him since his youth. "Hylia has never abandoned us in all the centuries Hyrule has existed. Not once. True, there had come wars, times of great calamity, and times of terror, but there have also been times of peace and prosperity. Not once has this world truly been abandoned or destroyed, not once has our people or any race been completely eradicated by Ganon." Zelda wished it were that simple.

"Have faith, Princess," Sir Alaric reiterated, standing tall and proud in his saddle. "You will unlock your powers somehow, and we'll show that Beast the consequences of threatening our people. You, the Champions, the Hero…" Zelda's muscles tightened. "You'll find a way."

"I hope, Sir Alaric. I hope." That answered seemed satisfactory enough for Sir Alaric to move on.

The following morning, Zelda and her escorts set out bright and early, and by the time the sun hit its midday rise, they rode through the crowded streets of Castle Town. It always was incredibly busy during the day, thanks to the markets, which made it difficult to ride through, but with the help of the town guards, a path was carved through the endless crowds to the very gateway of the castle itself.

The massive Iron doors of the main gate creaked loudly as they were pulled open to permit them entry, and they were swiftly led to the stables where the grooms relieved their horses and gathered their saddlebags. Zelda took a deep breath before committing to the long climbs up the endless staircases of Hyrule Castle, dismissing Sir Alaric and his second man before she did.

Her legs ached for a warm bath―she never was accustomed to riding for extended periods of time―so as soon as she could track down the nearest maidservant, she had a bath drawn and heated, promising to arrive shortly. She had to alert her father of her news first, per his request.

It was an arduous march to his office, the endless corridors and antechambers almost seemed without number, but within the quarter hour she was admitted into the cozy chamber that served as the King's parlor, which connected directly to his office, and there she found a sight she had been hoping to avoid for as long as possible.

Link, who seemed to have returned from adventuring mere hours before her, stood stiffly by the lifeless fireplace opposite of the door, donned in his old traveling garbs. He bowed deeply, greeting her with only silence.

"Ah, Zelda," her father said, rising from his chair, swirling a short glass of brandy in his hand. "I thought that you would be back soon. What news do you bring?"

"Urbosa and Mipha have both accepted our proposal," she answered. "We now have our four Champions."

"Five Champions," the King corrected, nodding ever slightly to the man standing nearby, an untouched glass balanced in his fingers.

"Of course, forgive me." Her father's eyebrow raised admonishingly, apparently her tone was not very conveying of sincerity, but he did not say anything further on the matter. "Five Champions."

"This is good news," her father continued, face forgetting its previously stern look. "That means we will proceed with the ceremony as planned."

"The ceremony?"

"Yes," he said, as if it were a matter of fact. He glanced at Link. "I have decided it would be best―to solidify the bounds that now tie our kingdom to the Champions―would be to hold an official ceremony commemorating their choice to unify under one banner. The people need a good show, Zelda, one that will bring them a sense of hope, and a public declaration like this will do the job just fine."

 _So knighting Link wasn't enough,_ she wanted to sigh, but omitted it from her reply. "I suppose that would be best." In truth, it really wasn't a bad idea, she was just tired of all the endless shows and escapades, all for the sake of 'pleasing the people.' "But I will need time to finish my garments I plan to gift to the Champions."

"That is well enough," her father replied. "Besides, we will need time to make preparations at any rate. Two weeks, at the very least. Will that give you sufficient time?"

"Yes, father," she answered. All that she lacked was the skirt for Urbosa, a sash for Mipha, and then for Link… Well. She hadn't thought of what she would make for Link yet. A scarf? A hat maybe? She tried to imagine what it would look like in her mind, but neither options seemed very fitting. However, as if the King could read her thoughts, he suggested that he make Link a new tunic. One that would cement his image as the Hero chosen by the Master Sword.

Not a terrible idea, she thought, but that meant gathering his measurements, tailoring it to fit him just right, multiple times if necessary… and that was a rather _intimate_ affair. But she couldn't think of a better option. So, begrudgingly, she accepted.

"Good. Well then," the King sighed after downing the last of his brandy. "I am sure you're both tired from your respective trips. Go and clean up. I expect to see you at dinner."

"Both of us?" Zelda tried not to sound too urgent, but she failed rather miserably, blurting the question out like a nervous fool. Her father's eyebrows furrowed reprovingly for the second time that day.

"Yes. Both of you." He turned to address Link, though she had a nagging suspicion it was meant for her ears. "You are the Hero chosen by the Sword after all. And a knight to boot. It is only fitting you share in our meals." The King set his empty glass down with a sigh and opened the door to his office. "It would look… undignified otherwise." With that said, his door closed, and only Link and Zelda remained.

Their eyes locked for only a brief moment, but for the life of her, Zelda could not determine what emotion his displayed. He was so… blank. So unreadable. It unsettled her.

What did he think of all this, she wondered?


	26. Book 2 Chapter 8

**Note:** As before, be sure to watch the final cutscene from the Champions Ballad DLC, it's a fantastic scene in my opinion!

* * *

-Prelude V-

The reason had become _perfectly_ clear to her now. In fact, Zelda was certain her father could care less if Link joined them for every meal, as he insisted on him doing every day since she returned. Her father wasn't _really_ interested in sharing his private time with a strange boy from a faraway country village who just so happened to pull a very important sword from a damnable rock. All it was really was just another part of his seemingly endless schemes to make her face that which she had come to fear and despise the most… Her one and only duty.

In other words, the King wanted Link present at every possible moment to serve a constant reminder―like an insistent itch in the back of her mind―of what she still lacked to achieve. The King wanted her to see that golden-haired boy sitting silently from across the table, eyes boring holes into her every time he looked her direction, as if taunting her, whispering in her ear _'you have yet to succeed.'_ He wanted the boy chosen by the Sword to act as a leash around her neck, pulling her back if she ever strayed too far from path of following nothing but absolute, unequivocal dedication to her prayers and offerings. The King did so knowingly, she was certain of it.

Not that her father had malicious intents. Far from it really―he was merely doing what he honestly thought best. But he had become so engrossed with the idea that there was some shortage of effort within her, that there was something she just wasn't doing quite right, preventing her from reaching her potential… and yet she couldn't ever disprove the notion. Of course, Zelda knew deep down she was trying her best, but when had that ever been enough? Maybe she was missing something?

And so, like always, she endured her father's meddling, with no small amount of frustration.

The question was, however, was Link in on it too?

He never said anything to her―or her father for that matter―that would indicate as much. Never a sharp remark or pointed observation. Then again, he had said but three words to either of them in nearly two weeks. But perhaps it was his silence that testified to his involvement in her father's musings; he certainly had motive to despise her considering she, so far, was the first in line to fail, endangering his own life at the first signs of Ganon's return.

Zelda had yet to puzzle that mystery out quite yet.

At any rate, however, he seemed more than subservient to the idea of just sitting straight in his chair like a perfectly trained footman, taking small proportioned bites from his plate till it was spotless, and then wait as patiently as a stone to be excused. He usually went to practice rigorous forms with his newly acquired blade out in the training yard after their meals, but Zelda expressly avoided the sight of it. As if she needed more reasons to scare her off to the castle sanctuary for an extra prayer or two.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner was more than enough time for that.

"Can you believe it," her father suddenly muttered to himself, turning over the neatly written report in his hand and dropping it on the table. He finally sipped from his spoon which had floated idly above his bowl ever since he started reading. "These testy Yiga will be the death of me yet, mark my word."

"What happened now, father?" Zelda asked flatly.

"Oh, the usual pillaging and arson," he grunted, pushing up his spectacles to the bridge of his nose. Off handedly, he regarded Link and asked, "you wouldn't happen to be willing to go hunt down these bastards, would you?" Zelda could sense the dryness of his tone―a bad joke, really―but evidently Link did not.

"Send me wherever I am needed, your Highness," the Knight answered in all seriousness. The King grunted again, almost as a chuckle.

"No, we have plenty of capable men to handle the whole mess. We need you here, near the Princess." Zelda's spoon scrapped and clinked against the bottom of her bowl loudly, and not entirely by accident. Her father simply ignored it. "Besides, with the ceremony being tomorrow, your presence will be required." Link's only reply was a firm nod before his eyes strangely found their way to Zelda. Under their meticulous inspection she felt like she would melt into her chair.

His gaze always unsettled her. She much preferred it when he ignore her entirely; at least then she felt like she could breathe. Luckily however, it didn't last long. After a beat he looked away and continued chipping away at his food, and she felt a noticeable weight leave her shoulders, freeing her arms to spoon in a mouthful of soup.

A servant entered the dining room then, and loudly announced that delegates from Death Mountain had arrived, and at the King's bidding, the servant brought them in with orders to bring more food, and a lot of it. That sent the footmen and chefs scattering, but it was a controlled, well-practiced scattering.

"Daruk!"

Zelda's heart lifted when she saw Daruk and his two Goron Brother's squeeze their way in through the tiny Hylian-sized door, and she rushed from the table to greet them. Her Champion smiled warmly and laughed from his belly, embracing her in a rather abrasive hug. There was very little in the way of traditional mannerisms for the Gorons, especially when it came to acceptable greetings between sovereigns, but Zelda could not have cared less. She enjoyed his warmth and breach of typical protocol.

"Its good to see you, little Princess," Daruk declared from his gut, patting her on the head like one would with a child. "And you, little King. And you―" the Goron paused, as if puzzled, and then in a moment of clarity he roared with laughter, rushing over to where Link had stood and clapped him on the back resoundingly. "Well break my boulders," he said, which if Zelda remembered correctly was a well know Goronic euphemism for something much less… appropriate. "What are you doing here, Brother?"

"Brother?" Zelda didn't mean to blurt it out quite so hurriedly.

"Yeah! Brother! I met Link a few weeks ago, just at the base of Death Mountain. A gang of Bokoblins thought they could get the jump on the little guy, but he showed them whose boss, right?" He patted Link's head in the same manner her had done to Zelda, though considerably rougher. "He took care of them like it was nothing, and by the time I rolled down the mountain, they were retreating like cowards. Heck, one even tried to sneak up behind me, but he threw a rock at its head and knocked it out stone cold. Guess I looked like a pretty big fool, huh, little guy?" Daruk scratched his beard.

"Naturally," the Goron continued, "I invited him up the mountain, and we shared a MIGHTY feast. He even liked our roast-rock! The little guy was speechless when he tasted it! I decided right then and there to declare him a full-fledged Brother."

"It seems we live in a small world, Master Daruk," the King said welcomingly, rising from his chair. "I suppose it was no accident that you have met you fellow Champion and wielder of the Master Sword before now. Hylia does seem to shine down on us in some ways, does she not?" Zelda tensed at the remark, and Daruk's jaw dropped.

"You're the Hero!?" The Goron's eyes grew wider when Link nodded slowly, scratching the back of his neck. "Well, I'll be a Goron's uncle! I guess it's no surprise though, you definitely know how to handle yourself."

Zelda was honestly too surprised by the coincidence to form any intelligent input to the conversation. In one way, she was glad to hear that already two of her Champions had already met Link―it would make getting them to work together far easier―but in another way it made her heart twist selfishly. Daruk and Mipha both seemed to hold Link in very high regard. She could only pray that they did not adopted the same feelings towards her as so many had before; that she was the weak link of a chain bound to hold back assured annihilation.

* * *

Chapter Eight

Unity

Urbosa stood beside Zelda as they watched the last of the fireworks scatter across the evening sky. The ceremony had gone quite well all things considered. Her father, as usual, made a grand speech from the balcony of his throne in the Inner Sanctum, his deep voice rumbling in coarse echoes across the vast chamber. He spoke of many things; duty, destiny, the Champions' roles as protectors of the Kingdom, and of course, Zelda's birthright as the first born of royalty to carry the torch against the dark.

"'Zelda,'" he had said. "'I trust you with the task that only a daughter of the Royal Family can fulfill. Lead our Champions, Princess. And together, protect our people from the threat of Calamity Ganon.'" In one form or another, it was the same words he had spoken to her countless times before. _Protect our people. Protect your people._ If only she knew how.

"You were right, Princess," Urbosa said with a slick smile, resting her elbows on the stone railing of the observatory balcony. "He is much shorter than I imagined." Of course, she was speaking of Link, who at the moment was not in sight. Apparently Daruk and Mipha had swept him off somewhere to avoid the crowds of eager townsfolk dying for the opportunity to shake hands with living, breathing, heroes, just as Urbosa had swept her away for the same reason.

Even Revali, for all his swelled-up pride, desired a moment of peace, and had taken of on wing to circle the spires of Hyrule Castle above. He claimed he wanted to get a layout of the castle for _strategic_ purposes, of course, but Zelda knew better.

"Though, I must disagree with you on one thing." Zelda crooked and eyebrow at the towering Gerudo woman questioningly.

"And what is that?" she asked.

"He is quite handsome, in my opinion." Urbosa laughed from her stomach. "Even pretty, almost, with that long hair luscious of his. Put him in a dress and you might fool an unsuspecting guard back home in Gerudo Town." A mischievous smile crept across her dark lips, but Zelda grumbled irritably and looked away.

"Looks hardly have anything to do with ability, Urbosa," she remarked pointedly.

"Of course they don't, little bird," Urbosa replied. "I am just surprised you find him unrememberable. But enough about that, what do you think about him? What is he like? He seems awfully quiet." The Gerudo crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the edge of the balcony nonchalantly.

"I don't know what to think anymore," Zelda admitted with a somber sigh. "All I know about him is that everyone who meets him praises him for his valor… his abilities. Daruk and Mipha revere him as some prodigy, even the townsfolk whisper his name in the streets as a Hero, telling of his great exploits in the south. And yet, not a word passes his lips, especially to me. I fear he loathes me already because I am doomed to be his downfall." A surge of vulnerability flooded through her body, and Zelda had to look away from her companion, hiding her wet eyes.

"I can't blame him… but… but its so frustrating. After all these years of praying and worshiping, begging for answers, Hylia finally sends a Hero to work alongside me, and yet he cannot bear to speak to me, and I cannot overcome the shame of seeing that sword on his back." A tear threatened to roll down her cheek, but she blinked it away before Urbosa could see it. "I just can't do it, Urbosa. I see the hilt of the Master Sword resting over his shoulder and all I can think about it how much I have failed my people… how I continue to fail my people." Zelda's muscles tensed when she felt gentle hands press against her back, but with a deep breath she relaxed and turned to face her dearest friend.

"You are not a failure, Zelda," Urbosa said, her emerald eyes shining with warmth and sincerity. "Life has dealt you a low blow, little bird, but I _know_ that you will find your stride someday. And when that day comes, Ganon won't stand a chance. I promise you." The Gerudo Chief wrapped her arms around Zelda and brought her into a strong embrace. "And don't you worry about Link. If he's decided to single you out, you'll show him just how wrong he is. You'll see. And if he doesn't… well… we Gerudo have ways of bending little Hylian boy's minds to see things proper. Even ones with darkness sealing swords." They both chuckled lightly, and a after a long peaceful silence Zelda spoke.

"I'll try my best, Urbosa," she said, smiling sadly.

"I know you will, little bird," Urbosa replied, stroking a hand through her hair. "Now. Shall we go join the others? We can't leave them to their own devices long. Daruk will bring the castle down on top of us if he's not careful."

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

* * *

"So this is the Sheikah Slate, eh?" Revali held the strange rectangular device deftly in his feathers, examining it with keen eyes. It had been a rather bizarre discovery, really. Something Robbie had dug up on one of his countless excavations before sending it to Purah for intense study. Although, since Purah was still pouring every available second of her day into analyzing the Master Sword in hopes of creating copies, she had passed it on to Zelda for her own scientific analysis.

So far, she had only managed to make the thing turn on, and perform an odd, but rather remarkable task.

"It is. Apparently, there are more uses for it than we originally thought. Sadly, we've yet to decipher all of its secrets." Seeming done with the thing, Revali dropped the Sheikah Slate into Mipha's small hands, allowing her to stare in wonder at the ancient relic.

"The Princess showed me something strange recently," Urbosa said, leaning over Mipha's shoulder. "Somehow it can create true to life images."

"Oh wow," Mipha gasped. "I would love to see it." The young Zora Princess gave the thought a considerable pause, and then as if she were bolstering her courage she asked, "Princess, may I ask a special favor of you?"

"Oh course, what is it?" Mipha glanced back over her shoulder sheepishly, where Daruk and Link were talking quietly between themselves―Link even less so, and Daruk not so quietly―and Zelda couldn't help but wonder why she would look so nervous.

"Could… could we create and image of us all together… like Urbosa said?" It was an odd request, but Zelda was willing to oblige. And so, after having a nearby servant run and fetch Purah from her laboratory―she hadn't resurfaced all day, but there was no one who knew how to operate the strange thing―the Princess and her newly dubbed Champions gathered together into a small bundle.

Zelda tried to orient herself so that she could be between Daruk and Urbosa, but Purah expressly repositioned them so that Daruk towered above them in the back, Urbosa and Revali on her right, and then Link and Mipha on her left. Zelda made no complaint.

"All right," Purah said excitedly, pushing up her glasses so that she could see the Sheikah Slate's screen a little better. "This spot should work nicely. Keep your eyes on the Sheikah Slate everyone. Uh, Daruk, can you crouch down a bit? You're as big as Death Mountain."

"Uh? Oh!" Nodding once he understood, Daruk leaned in, just above Zelda's head.

"What's with the glum face, Princess? Give me a big smile?" Urbosa stepped in closer and put a hand on Zelda's shoulder and Purah's instructions continued to pour out. "Revali, move your tail closer to the group. Mipha, you look so tense. Deep breaths, okay?"

"Right!"

"Stay just like that, here we go! Smiiile, click snap!" Just as the Sheikah scientist pressed the indicator on the screen of the Slate, however, Daruk grinned roguishly. And with his arms the size of tree trunks, the mighty Goron grabbed them all up in a Goron sized hug, to quite a comedic effect. Naturally, the picture turned out awfully―in Revali's opinion that is, considering he looked like a cucoo with its tail on fire―but Mipha could not have been happier with its results.

And so, with as the sun set on the day of their Ceremony, Zelda and her Champions joined together for the first time and feasted in honor of the occasion. And although it grew a little awkward at times when Zelda was forced to interact with the boy chosen by the Sword, her heart felt a little lighter having such dependable Champions at her side.

In this, she allowed herself to feel a small flicker of hope.

* * *

Welp! The Gang is all here! And now we finally get to move on to the pre-DLC part of the BOTW story! I cannot wait! I have many many wonderful things planned, and I look forward to hearing from all of you.

Stay classy, my friends,

-Bold


	27. Book 2 Chapter 9

-Prelude VI-

Link looked so dedicated to the ceremony, kneeling like proper knight under her stretched out hand as she spoke the verses of a long-ago blessing over him. So dedicated, yet so adamantly, irritably silent. It began to make her blood boil. Why wouldn't he talk to her? Why didn't he vent out his obvious frustrations of their… unusual arrangement and forced cooperation? Surely something went on in that head of his.

He merely bowed his head and closed his eyes, and listened keenly to her somber voice.

"Hero of Hyrule," Zelda said. "You have been chosen by the Sword that Seals the Darkness… You have shown unflinching bravery and skill in face of darkness and adversity…" The old tome went on for several more paragraphs, mostly about heroic elegies and turnings of fate, but for ever word she spoke she felt her spirit waning.

It was Daruk's idea to drag them all out to the secluded Sacred Grounds, resting just outside of the maws of Hyrule Castle, and perform ceremonies of old. Of course, the towering Goron just wanted to help, bless his kind soul, but of all the silly ideas Zelda had tried in the past to awaken the power sleeping within, this was the worst. Or at least, she _thought_ it was the worst.

After all, this whole charade was a ceremony for the Hero to strengthen his bond with the Master Sword, not for the inept Princess to gain insight and wisdom.

But she persevered through her doubts and inhibitions and continued to speak the verses of old. Her four Champions whispered amongst themselves on the out circle of the Sacred Grounds, though she was certain they thought she could not hear them… Daruk and Revali in particular were having a bout, each taking opposite stands on the matter of this useless ceremony, but they were hushed by Urbosa with a firm yet motherly tone.

"Oh give it a rest…" and "living reminder of her own failures…" she heard Urbosa say in glimpses. "At least, that's how she sees him."

How she saw him indeed. Link had been wearing that Sword ever since their inauguration as Champions; a doing of his own volition or her father's she could not say, but the fact of the matter was that she wasn't going to be avoiding that sight for a _very_ long time. If ever. They were bound together now, whether she liked it or not.

* * *

Chapter Nine

One Step Forward, Four Steps Back

"You all right, Princess?" Purah asked, pushing her glasses further up her nose as she dangled precariously upside-down in the jumbled mess of metal and stone that was one of the wrecked Ancient Guardians. Grease was smudged on that little button nose of hers, but she hardly noticed, nor did she care, the Sheikah Scientist was in her element and there was no slowing down.

"I'm fine―"

"Calipers please," Purah puffed, reaching behind an odd-looking console with all manners of switches, dials, and runic transcriptions etched into the lifeless stone armor of the slumbering machine. "Sorry, what was that, Zellie?"

"I said I'm fine," Zelda answered, louder.

"That's a lie if I ever heard one," the Sheikah replied, her voice muffled as she dove head first into the Guardian's inner workings. She was quite fit for the job, being a borderline midget had its advantages in some cases, she could fit easily into tight spaces, but her personality was certainly large enough for a giant. And then some. "You've been standing there looking like a sad puppy all day while I do all the heavy lifting. Tell me what you see on the screen!" Zelda thinned her lips crossly, but did as the Sheikah asked, and meticulously examined the illegible gibberish flashing across the screen of the Sheikah Slate.

"Nothing's changed," Zelda replied, adjusting the device in her hands so that the endless cables and wires spewing from the back of it didn't crimp or bend in a bad way. A loud clink reverberated through the outer shell of the Guardians as Purah banged around with her tools.

"And now?"

"Still nothing," Zelda sighed. The Sheikah had some… _colorful_ words to say about that, but it was hardly discernable to anyone outside the large machine. Purah poked her head out, white hair dirtied with grime and hanging in a tangled mess. She had to push her glasses up―or down, depending on who's perspective you looked from―before her eyes could focus on the Princess.

"Really, dear," she said with a rare sense of sincerity. "What _is_ wrong?" Zelda's eyes danced over to the other side of the courtyard, where a particular knight sat aimlessly, tapping a patient finger against his elbow as he leaned against the wall. "What, him? Why should you care? Maybe he's just curious about these magnificent ancient machines." The Sheikah declared it with a hint of pride.

"That's the thing," Zelda replied in a hushed voice. "I don't think he really _is_ curious about them… at least not anymore. Not after weeks of watching us work seemingly with no discernable outcome or progress."

"Maybe," Purah hummed thoughtfully, a finger scratching her chin. "Well… maybe he just likes the look of your royal posterior in those pants!"

"Purah!" Zelda's face turned all shades of red, some anger, but mostly from embarrassment.

"What!?" Purah protested with a snicker. "It _does_ look good though― _ow!"_ The Sheikah rubbed the skin on her forehead where Zelda had flicked a finger warningly. "Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a wad, Princess. It was merely a scientific observation! He is a specimen of the opposite sex, in case you haven't noticed, it's only natural that he'd want admire such things." Purah dove back into the safety of her Guardian fortress with a giggling hysteria, avoiding Zelda's admonishments and flicking fingers.

"Honestly," she continued, muffled once again by the enclosure. "You shouldn't get so worked up about, Zellie. Its all just anatomy in motion… and chemistry too. Lots of chemistry. Goddess, too much, in all honesty."

"Well I'd much prefer it if you'd keep your… dirty little musings out of it." Purah's laughing echo reverberated against the Guardians armor yet again.

"Fine," Purah said. "So, why else would he be here?"

"I don't know… well… maybe."

"What?"

Zelda stuck her head into the entrance of the Guardian's belly, eyes meeting with the Sheikah Scientist as she probed the machine with delicate metal tools. "Either he's here because he wants to taunt me, or he's here because Father sent him."

"Taunt you? Does he really dislike you that much?" Purah's eyebrows knotted doubtfully.

"I mean, it only makes sense, right?" Zelda sighed. "He wouldn't exactly be the first Knight apprehensive about potentially laying down his life for a princess that hardly has the means of protecting them from a greater threat. And since he's… well, the bearer of the Master Sword. I think its perfectly reasonable to assume he's here out of spite… to loom over me with that blade on his back. To brag. To lord it over me."

"Sounds fishy to me, Princess," Purah admitted. "But I'm not so sure you're seeing the whole picture. Remember what I've always said about Scientific Observation…"

In unison they said, "'you have to search every avenue before making an educated assumption.'"

"I guess…" Zelda sighed.

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"Of course I have," Zelda grumbled. "Its like talking to a brick wall… I feel like I'm just talking to myself by that point. I gave up a long time ago."

"Maybe he's just shy," Purah suggested, jabbing a long probe into a peculiarly off-colored socket. The hole looked almost as if it had caught fire―once an eon ago―and tinted the metal around it a strange bluish hue.

"I doubt it. Daruk and Mipha both said he was quite courageous. Dangerously so. And they've both declared him as a close friend. So that means he's decidedly withholding communication with me, and only me."

"That's not entirely true," Purah said, only half focused on Zelda. "When I asked to borrow the Master Sword for my experiments, he was hardly what you'd call a… social fellow. Then again, I guess I did burst in on him while he was changing―" Purah closed her lips when she saw Zelda's arching eyebrow. "Point is," she continued, "he wasn't exactly forthcoming to me either. He barely said a word, and even when he did it was minimal at best. And if the servants' gossip is anything to go by, it doesn't seem like he's particularly _buddy-buddy_ with anyone in the castle."

Zelda hummed thoughtfully to herself. _There must be something I'm missing here._

"Zellie!" Purah suddenly exclaimed, readying her tool to probe the ancient circuitry yet again. "I think I've figured it out! Watch this!" With little more in the ways of warning, Purah violently jammed her tool in to the socket she had been carefully examining, torqueing it slightly, and suddenly bright blue sparks began to arc wildly, and a deep rumbling shook the entire Guardian like an earthquake. As quickly as she could, Zelda gripped onto Purah's dirty sleeve and yanked her from her little cubby hole, and out through the entry port at the bottom of the Guardian, half reeling with excitement and half staring in shock.

It was moving! The Guardian was moving!

"What did you do?" Zelda looked down in wonder at her fellow scientist, and the Sheikah grinned slyly.

"One of its ignition circuits was burnt out, I simply bridged the gap again! Quick, check the Sheikah Slate, quick!" Doing as the Sheikah scientist had ordered, Zelda rushed over to where she had left the Slate resting on a temporary work table and poured over the bursts of color that sputter over the screen. First it was numbers flashing in full array, and then ancient Sheikah letters. The screen danced wildly with meaningless information, but slowly a larger picture began to develop. And within a few seconds, a single line of words―words that had any real meaning―flashed violently in flickering reds and blues.

' _Target Acquired'_

"Princess!" Something as hard as a rock collided with her side, knocking her head over heels in a tumbling mess in the grass and dirt of the castle courtyard, and then a noise as loud as a crack of lightning hammered against her eardrums, a wave of searing heat blowing overhead to boot. When Zelda regained her better senses, she uncovered her head and looked up to find Link standing over her, staring down the machine she and Purah had worked so hard to bring to life.

It was in shambles!

Worse than shambles! A complete and utter mess. Its head had been near completely blasted to bits, and its long tentacle like legs spasmed like a spider just freshly crushed under a heel, and the dying sparks of autonomous life flickered and sputtered until they were no more, and the ancient Guardian collapse under its own weight with a dull dead thud.

"What have you done!?" Zelda's voice tore across the dwindling silence shrilly, and Link's eyes found hers, scowling. In his right hand he held a wooden pot lid― _a pot lid_! Orange and blue flames licked and sparked across the surface of his makeshift shield, and before it burnt him any further, he tossed the ashen lid on the ground, stomping out the last of the fire.

"What did you do?" She looked between Link and her destroyed guardian with disbelieving shock. Weeks of work, _weeks,_ all gone in an instant!

"He saved you, Princess," Purah gasped, dusting off dirt and ash from her stark white robes and coughing as she waved smoke out of her eyes. By her tone, Purah seemed just as distraught as the herself, if not more. "I'm glad at least one of us had the reaction time to see that coming. I guess when this machine went down, it went down fighting… Its main battle array was still primed and ready to fire, and it locked onto the nearest target… you! Link deflected the beam with a pot lid." She laughed once, although not from humor. It was a bitter laugh.

"But it's gone, Purah," Zelda crawled onto her knees, stricken with frustration as she watched all their hard work burn. She knew she shouldn't have let her anger get the best of her, but she was so distraught, so caught up in her emotions that she turned on Link and scowled fiercely. "How could you destroy our work so carelessly?"

The Knight's eyes narrowed critically, and his eyebrows and mouth knotted in severe conjunction. It was the first _real_ sign of emotion she had seen in his face, but she hardly cared to note it.

"Princess, that's not fair," Purah said, catching her breath, "he only did what he thought best―"

"But we spent so long…. I… Its just so―ugh!" Zelda wanted to pull her hair out, and she nearly did. Couldn't he have found another way to dispatch of the threat? He could have just as easily pushed her out of the way and waited for the Guardian to inevitably wind down. But no! He decided to blow it up like a child with fireworks! He decided to destroy all their hard work and first real progress!

"Why are you even here!? I didn't ask you to follow me around the castle! Did my father set you up to this? Or are you just so keen on the idea of being a constant thorn in my side for your own twisted amusement?"

"Zelda!"

Purah rarely said her name like that; it was only when she was feeling particularly irritated―or intoxicated―but Zelda could hardly care anymore. All the pent-up anger, all the frustration that she had welled up in her chest had begun to boil over, and so far, Link was the easiest target she could find to unleash it upon. Even as the words left her sneering mouth, she knew she was going to regret them later, but that hardly seemed to stop her.

"You stalk my shadow everyday I come out here to do honest work, and you invade the privacy of every meal! What's next? Are you going to start following me to the Sanctuary to make sure I pray like a prefect little Princess? Are you going to run and tattle on me like a child every time I step out of line or do something you don't like? Some Hero you are. Do you enjoy mocking me?"

And then it hit her how far she had gone. But it was too late. Without a word, Link turned and left, the Master Sword on his back bouncing with every wide and coursing stride. She could not peel her eyes off of him as he marched off like a soldier going to war, ignoring the singed skin on his forearm that was as sure as the sun rising in the east to blister.

* * *

Oh Zelda Zelda Zelda, you foolish little girl. Now you done it. Of course, Link hasnt exactly been the most welcoming _friend_ but I digress.

Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this chapter!

Stay classy, my lovely readers,

-Bold


	28. Book 2 Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

A Change of Order

 _I'm going to do it… I will._

At least, that's what Zelda kept telling herself. As much as she disliked the idea, Purah was right. She _should_ apologize to Link for berating him the day before. After all, he was only acting on instinct, anyone could have made a similar mistake. But she had wrestled with her emotions for hours on end now, and even when she tried to escape the trappings of her mind by calling upon her loyal bard to sing a play soothing tunes, the sensations of anger and frustration continued to boil in her blood.

Four weeks they had spent getting that Guardian back in working order, and now it nothing but warped metal and shattered stone.

 _I will do it._

She promised Purah she would apologize, it was the decent thing to do, but that didn't mean she was happy about it. Far from it, actually.

"I heard about what happened yesterday," Lini commented, brushing out the last few knots in Zelda's hair after her long morning soak in the Sanctuary prayer pool. "The servants' quarters is a gossiper's delight down there. Did he really save you from that… _thing?_ " Lini didn't particularly like the ancient Sheikah Relics, Guardians especially, so she refrained from saying their names out loud, as if saying to brought a curse upon oneself. Zelda suspected they frightened the old woman more than she let on.

"I suppose," Zelda replied solemnly. "But he blew up all our hard work in the process."

Lini tsk'd disapprovingly. "Well, maybe its best those old clunking things stay buried in the ground like they've been for thousands of years. Such things are not… natural."

"You're taking his side on the matter?" Zelda's eyebrow rose ever slightly, denoting her displeasure with the idea.

"I'm taking no one's side but your side, Princess," her maid replied resolutely. "All I'm saying is that I find his actions agreeable―as agreeable as a man's actions _can_ get, mind you. He did save you from being blown to smithereens after all."

"I _guess_ he did," Zelda said sardonically. "I'm sure Father will want to reward him… You know how he is."

"That I do, Princess," Lini agreed with a chuckle. "I'm assuming that's why _Sir Link_ has been locked in the King's office with him for the last hour." That did not bode well, considering that was exactly the same place she had been called to by the King's own summons.

"Where did you hear this news?"

"One of the footmen told me," her maid said, pulling the last of Zelda's golden trusses behind her ears. "Apparently Sir Alaric is in there with them."

"Why on earth would Sir Alaric be dragged into any of this?" It was certainly odd. Bizarre, even. Surely her father wasn't admonishing Sir Alaric for not being in Link's place, was he? The man was at no fault, it was all just circumstantial timing. She knew full and well that Sir Alaric would have done as just a good job at pushing her out of harms way. In fact, she was certain he would have been able to do so without blowing up all her hard work. Unlike Link, he knew how important her research was. He would have taken more care.

"Who knows, Princess, who knows." Lini gave her hair a once over, and finally declared her fit for service, sending her on her way to face whatever new _scheme_ her father was inevitably planning.

When Zelda arrived at the threshold of her father's office door after the long march from her room, she heard Sir Alaric's deep voice resonate on the other side. He did not sound very pleased, not in the slightest, and it was almost always accompanied by a sigh. _Not a good sign,_ she thought anxiously, but pressed in regardless. Whatever this mess was, she wasn't going to be able to clean it up if she just eavesdropped by the keyhole for an hour.

Zelda took two steps in and halted. As she had feared, Link was still there, standing stiffly like a soldier in formation, ears open wide to hear the commands of his general. He had positioned himself near the far wall where he could keep keen eyes on things from afar with something solid at his back… like a wolf cornered and ready to fight in the blink of an eye, she imagined.

Zelda scowled at him coldly, quickly forgetting her promise to Purah to apologize. She almost wished to see a smug grin on his lips mockingly, confirming that the destruction of all her hard work at his hand was no accident at all. She could be angry with him without resignation then, but…

He received her glare as a stone wall would: unchanging, absolutely blank.

It set her teeth on edge. Was he truly so in control of his emotions that he could test a stone's patience and win? Was he even Hylian? Were it not for his furrowed eyebrows the day before Zelda could have written him off as no more capable of emotion than the damned Sheikah machinations they worked so hard to resurrect. Was this all just a cruel joke from the goddesses themselves?

"Princess."

Alaric sat opposite of the boy, seemingly deflated and defeated in his chair as he stroked the tails of his short mustache, as was his habit when he was stressed. But he perked up hastily and rose to bow at the Princess's entry. Link mirrored his fellow Knight, but did so silently.

"I see I have walked in on something rather… uncomfortable. Shall I return later?" Sir Alaric's eyes danced towards her knowingly, before rounding on the golden-hair boy opposite of him, regarding him with a sort of annoyed disposition. Not anger, just innate frustration. The pieces were already falling into place in her head, but she tried to deny the bigger picture coming together.

"Uncomfortable or unorthodox, as Sir Alaric says it," the King remarked, "you are here, my daughter, all the same. You might as well hear it." Zelda swallowed slowly, the muscles in her neck tensing like they always did as she forced a deep breath. She took the seat Sir Alaric readily offered her, and he took to standing at her side like a hound loyally protecting its master.

"Well. There's no dancing around it," her father said, leaning back in his chair and lowering his reading glasses. Zelda readied herself for whatever nonsense was about to come pouring out of his lips. "After hearing of yesterday's events, I have decided to transfer the role of Sir Alaric's position as your Appointed Knight to Sir Link. He is to take his place as your protector."

"Father that is ridiculous," Zelda protested loudly. "I hardly know Sir Link, but Sir Alaric has been at my side ever since I was a child, and not once has my safety ever been put into question since then! Why on earth would you disservice such loyalty on the whim of a boy who got lucky with a pot lid?" _A pot lid!_ Goddess, that made it all the more infuriating. Of all the impractical and outlandish happenstances, he deflected the full power of a Guardian beam with a pot lid! _Where did he even get the blasted thing?_

"That _boy,_ " he father scorned, wholly ignoring the stone-faced knight standing to his right, "is the wielder of the Master Sword, need I remind you?"

"You don't! I am well aware of that since he parades around with it on his back all the time, father, _thank you_ very much!" Zelda's icy stare had no effect of Link. Or at least, that's what she thought.

The King's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his chair, thick fingers impatiently drumming on the top of his desk. "Then I should not need to remind you why it is important to have you two close and at hand at every moment possible," he said with a tense pause. "Ganon could strike at any moment, and if you two are separated more than strictly necessary then we are doomed with all certainty. And since Sir Link has proven himself to be of a sharp and capable mind, I see no issue with having the Hero Chosen by the Sword serving as your closest protector. If we cannot trust the man who Hylia has chosen herself to serve as the champion of our people, then we cannot trust the goddess herself."

"Oh spare me the religiosity, father! You yourself did not trust _Sir Link_ when he first arrived, and now you wish to indulge favor of Hylia with tidings of faith. Do you even hear yourself right now? Do you not see the hypocrisy of your own words?"

"At least I am willing to admit when I have done wrong by the goddess, Zelda," her father retorted harshly, standing to his feet and leaning his palm against the flat of his desk. Her father was an imposing figure to begin with, standing far taller and wider than most men, but brooding over her as he did now, Zelda's courage waxed and waned like the dying flame of a candle, but she did not crumble yet.

"Perhaps if you learned the same humility Hylia would see you fit to inherit the powers bestowed upon this bloodline like your mother and her mother before her." That was a low blow, and he knew it. To call upon the name of her late mother for the sake of turning blame on her.

"You don't think I have been humiliated enough?" Zelda kept a tight grip on the arms of her chair, grounding herself in any sense of stability. She was so torn between anger and fear now she worried her delicately assembled sense of fortitude would fail her. "You don't think I have suffered enough being the bad end of a sour joke in this family? The inept Princess of Hyrule… the sovereign doomed to fail… do not think I have not heard the whispers of our people?"

"I don't have time to argue frivolities with you Zelda," the King replied with a deep grumbled. "Sir Link is your new Appointed Knight, that's that, and its best you learn to live with it. Both of you!" Zelda shot cold eyes at Link and wondered… _Does he disagree with this as well?_

"Your Majesty," Sir Alaric intoned calmly, glancing at the Princess as if to reassure that he would try. "If I might have a word in all this?" the King sank back into his chair with a long sigh and nodded.

"I beleive what the Princess wishes to express is that she is still uncertain as to Sir Link… proficiencies. I won't deny that he did save her from the rogue Guardian, a feat fitting of a Hero, yes. But they are little more than strangers, lacking in the nuances of mutual understanding. Surely it would be wise to allow her time to get to know Sir Link before you have him replace me. After all, the position of an Appointed Knight is a rather intimate station, it must be built on trust and honor." The King's eyebrow crooked.

"I do not mean to question the Hero's integrity, of course," Sir Alaric quickly said with a sincerity only fitting of him. "I merely wish to do what is honorable by my station."

"And I do not wish to dishonor you, Sir Alaric," the King replied in a quieter, more reasonable tone. "It is true that you have served my daughter and my family with the utmost loyalty, and I promise to reward such stalwartness. You will be moved into the ranks of my own Royal Guard, I assure you, where you may continue serving the Royal Family for many years to come."

He paused and looked at his daughter. "But for your uncertainties, I'm afraid you will just have to learn by live by faith. These are trying times, I know, but its for the betterment of our people. And it's not as if this is a permanent change. Once this whole Calamity Ganon mess is dealt with, Sir Alaric will be returned to your original position beside the Princess."

"But it could be years until that happens," Zelda persisted. Goddess, she hoped it wouldn't be years. What the Princess wouldn't give to wake up the next morning with her powers finally unlocked at last and slay the damned Beast before tea time. A foolish wish, yes, but a wish all the same.

"Or it could be days," the King replied solemnly. "We can't truly know. That is why we must exercise every precaution."

"Father―"

"Enough Zelda," her father nipped. "Sir Alaric, I herby officially relieve you of your role as the Princess's Appointed Knight, and bestow it upon Sir Link, the Hero Chosen by the Sword. In the exchanging of this role, Sir Alaric you will inform Sir Link of his responsibilities as the Princess's Appointed Knight. You are all dismissed."

For a long while all Zelda could do was sit there in abhorred silence, and Sir Alaric did much the same. As if things could not get any worse her only chance of being out there in the wide-open world of Hyrule, free from her father's pressure, free from the sight of that gold-haired boy with that damned blade, was promptly thrown out the window.

But she swallowed that pain. Swallowed it and internalized it, and then stormed out of her father's office with nothing but a bitter resolve to keep walking until her legs gave out from exhaustion.

Or her horses' legs. In fact, she very much intended to do just that. If Link was to be her new bloody Appointed Knight, then he was going to have to work for it.

* * *

Sir Link didn't say much, that was for sure. But as long as he did his job and did it well, Sir Alaric could find some peace in that, if even a little. After all, he was the Hero Chosen by the Sword. Surely, Link alone could keep her safe when their world faced its darkest hour.

Of course, that didn't exactly make the dull ache of his wounded pride feel any better.

He was a Knight after all, and a Knight's pride was in his duty and honor in service to his King. Even when that King called him to step down and give his place over to another man. Sir Alaric knew he would be lying if he said that didn't anger him. It did. But despite the bitter taste in his mouth, there was nothing he could do now to change it. He could only make sure his replacement did well by Zelda.

"The Princess has a strong spirit, Sir Link," Sir Alaric said, clapping a firm hand on the boy's shoulder. "Its best to learn when to be resilient, and when to give in. Be hard when you need to for the sake of her safety but don't be afraid to let her chose her own way sometimes." He paused, gave it a thought, and then laughed a little. "In fact, that's good advice for any woman really. It's like winning a war, lad. You got to pick and choose your battles. Some are worth winning, and some are not. But it's always the little victories on both sides that make all the difference… you understand?"

Link nodded. Not exactly the most encouraging answer, but it would have to do.

"Also, if you ever find yourself staying out there in the wild, be careful when you try to wake the Princess up in the morning. She's quite jumpy, you see, prone to being easily startled awake." Unconsciously, Sir Alaric rubbed his nose, remembering a long-gone pain from where it had been punched by accident.

Link nodded again.

"And one last thing." Sir Alaric was much taller than Link was, so he bent down to level his eyes with the young Hero, and calmly yet grimly said. "If you ever do anything to bring question to the Princess's honor, I personally will see to it you will be split open from navel to nose. Hero or no Hero. Understood?" The Hero matched his eyes pupil to pupil, neither cowering away nor challenging him.

"I wouldn't expect any less," he said. It was a simple reply―and admittedly in a far deeper pitch than he was expecting―but it bore the weight of truth, and Sir Alaric was satisfied with that.

"Good. Keep a close eye on her for me, Sir Link. I'm putting my trust in you." As his last expression of solidarity, Sir Alaric offered his hand to the Hero. Link took it with a tight grip, and firmly shook.

Sir Alaric watched as the young Hero left, solemnly crossing his arms and sighing deeply. The Princess wasn't going to go easy on him, that was for certain. It was terribly out of character for her despise someone so, she truly was a benevolent little thing, but it seemed that Link had pushed every right button―intentionally or unintentionally he could not say―and that wasn't going to be an easy battle to make peace with.

But for the sake of his kingdom, Sir Alaric prayed devoutly for their unity under one goal.

* * *

I feel bad for Sir Alaric, dude just wants to do his job.

But, you know how the cookie crumbles. Besides, it won't always be daggers and cold feelings, I promise. I hope you enjoyed.

On another note, just wanted to let you guys and gals in on a story I've been reading recently that I feel really outshines anything I've written before. Its by a writer named nomansland, and the story he/she wrote in particular is called "Legacies and Bloodlines" Its a really really good Zelda fanfiction and I highly recommend you go read it. And leave a review and let the author know who sent you!

As always, stay classy

-Bold


	29. Book 2 Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Simple Prevaricates

Zelda had to admit, she did not expect Milos to keep a good pace beside her. Even as he bounced up and down in the saddle of his shaggy mare, keeping one white-knuckled hand on the reins and the other on the instrument strapped across his back to stop it from slipping off its shoulder strap, Zelda's bard rode abreast with all the fair speed he could muster. It was surprising to say the least, but in a good way.

After all, her trusty bard wasn't exactly cut out for the rugged life out on the road. He was used to the simpler, more refined living of Hyrule's courts, where the food was easy to come by and the beds were soft and warm. But it appeared that he was quite determined to keep his promise to not slow her down. After all, Milos had been the one to insist he accompany her on this… _spur of the moment_ trip to Rito Village, not her.

At any rate, she was just glad to have given her new Appointed Knight the slip.

Pulling her reins back, Zelda eased her horse into a slow canter, and then a brisk walk. Her companion did the same, looking at her curiously. And after quickly checking the small indicator on the Sheikah Slate at her hip, Zelda answered his unasked question, saying, "it's a quarter past seven, we won't make it to Rito Village today, Milos. Perhaps we should break and make camp before it gets dark. I doubt Sir Link will be catching up to us anytime soon." She said that last part with a hint of pride, and Milos smiled, nodding eagerly. It seemed the Hero wasn't quite as capable at everything as everyone thought. He could be outrun. All it took was a little planning and quick action.

"I hope it doesn't rain, Princess," Milos said, looking hesitantly up to the evening sky, counting the sparse dark clouds hanging above them. "I didn't have time to get a tent."

"I doubt it will rain," she said confidently, leading her mount off the side of the road in a little clearing where the rocky terrain formed a natural bowl-like shape against a small precipice, and a creek trickling with cool spring water into a pond down the hill. "And I didn't bring a tent either, just a tarp to hang over us in case we do get unlucky. It'll be more than enough to shelter us for the night, and a fire will keep us warm."

"Oh… a fire…" Milos scratched behind his ear awkwardly. "I've never made a fire out in the wilderness before, Princess… but I'll try my best!" Zelda chuckled a little. He truly was a courtier through and through. Not that she could blame him though, it wasn't as if bards were exactly expected to know how to survive out in the wild on their own.

"Don't worry, I'll show you how." Luckily, Sir Alaric had taught her how to start a fire with only the bare necessities, a lesson she now thanked him for in her head. In fact, her former Appointed Knight had taught her countless things in their time together out on the road… 'The wilds of Hyrule are lush and plentiful lands, Princess,' she remembered him saying once. 'All it takes is a little know how, and you can scavenge yourself a meal fitting of any royal.' But the memory turned sour in her mind when she remembered why he was officially her _former_ Appointed Knight.

When they had tied off their horses and relieved them of their saddles after a nice long drink from the creek, Zelda led Milos through the basics of starting a fire out in the wild. From gathering the driest wood available, to igniting a flame with a tinder box and flint, she taught her companion the little tricks to make the whole process easier, and in no time at all they had a roaring fire to cozy up next to.

Zelda of course had to the forethought to save them the trouble of having to find food on the road, so once she was certain the campfire would stay nice and warm for hours to come, she used a long stick to shovel the blisteringly hot coals from the heart of the fire into a neat and level pile between two elevated rocks and balanced a small cooking pot across it. It was a crude sort of stove, really, but it worked wonders in a pinch.

"I'm not a very good cook," she admitted, unfurling a small parchment wrapping that was tucked in the bottom of her saddle bag, revealing two plentiful cuts of raw beef. "But I can sear up a palatable steak at the very least." The meat crackled and popped satisfyingly as it hit the surface of the hot pan, and the smells that tickled their noses enticed them to sit closer to the fire while their stomach growled like wild wolves until at last their dinner was cooked.

With eager grins, they both took their first bites, and sighed with relief.

Although the meat was rather plain in flavor―regrettably, Zelda did not have time to find and pack any spices or salt―it was tender and juicy, which more than made up for the lack of taste. And so, as their rumbling tummies at last had their fill and fell silent, they were left happy and content enough to roll out their bedrolls, and rest idly by the campfire. Zelda and her bard gazed up into the stars that appeared while the sun sank below the horizon, until utter darkness consumed the world outside their little campfire.

Zelda glanced over to Milos when the soft notes of his strange Sheikah instrument gently drifted over the camp, and for a long while she just enjoyed the tranquility and simplicity of the sights and sounds around her. The droning call of the crickets, the gentle breeze fluttering through the leaves of the trees, the night time song of the Evening Gale, and the trickling of the nearby creek.

It was all so… peaceful.

"Would you like to hear a riddle, Princess?" Milos asked, his music slowing into a waltz-like tune. "My old teacher used to be just full of them. I was sure to write down the best of them."

"Yes, please," she replied. The bard grinned widely and cleared his throat, attention split equally between his playing and the Princess.

"How about this," he said, cleverly. "'The more you take, the more you leave behind… what am I?'" Zelda smiled and pondered over the possible answers.

"That one is easy," she said with a small laugh. "Footsteps."

"Precisely," the bard replied warmly. "You have a sharp intuition Princess, as always. How about this one… 'I am always in sight, but just outside of reach. Though you may climb mountains and cross oceans to grasp me, forever distant I will be. For every step you take, then one more shall I take. What am I?"

Now that was one was a little bit harder, but the sense of mystery enthralled her. Her first instinct was to assume the answer was some sort of abstract idea… _Progress,_ she thought, but quickly dismissed it. _Eternity…_ Yes, the idea of eternity had merit to it… but it still didn't seem quite right. She offered it anyways.

"Is it eternity?"

Milos paused thoughtfully. "That's not the original answer," he said, "but now that you mention it, it very well could be." He laughed. "Like I said, Princess, you have a very sharp mind; not everyone can find different answers to a riddle. I applaud you."

"You flatter me, Milos, but I'm not _that_ sharp. You should try giving your hardest riddles to Purah. She could think of a hundred answers for each of them."

"Oh I've tried," Milos chuckled, "and even when she did get one wrong we'd argue about it for hours until I found myself admitting defeat. But I supposed that's what it means to be a Sheikah, through and through. Legends say we have eyes for truth, even when we are wrong."

"I suppose that in itself is a riddle." The Sheikah truly were an enigmatic people. At least when compared to their Hylian counterparts. But Milos was quite approachable, like his near-kin, Purah and Robbie. She was glad he had insisted on accompanying her.

"What is the actual answer?" she asked.

"The horizon." The bard's strumming grew softer, like the gentle flowing of a lullaby.

"I think I like that answer better," Zelda said, stretching her arms and cradling her head as she gazed back up at the heavens, admiring their light show. "Do you have any more riddles?"

Milos smiled. "'If you look you cannot see me. And if you see me you cannot see anything else. I can make anything you want to happen, but later everything goes back to normal. What am I?'"

"Now that one…" Zelda hummed thoughtfully and tried to wrap her brain around the idea. This one was certainly abstract. What on earth could not be seen if you look, but if you saw it you could see nothing else? That in itself was contradictory.

"Your imagination." Zelda bolted upright in shock. It was not Milos nor herself that gave that answer. The voice was far deeper than either of theirs, but Zelda recognized it bitterly.

They had been found.

How _he_ managed to make his horse walk alongside him without stirring a single sound―not a drop of the hoof or clink of a bridal―she could not fathom, but as he approached the halo of light cast by their campfire, Link's silhouette took form in the pitch black of night like a shadow, until at last he was close enough to be made out by the harsh yellows and oranges of the fire.

And he didn't seem very happy. Not one bit.

For anyone else it would have been a look of mild irritation, but on that usually stoic face of his it was clear cut anger by comparison. Milos rushed to his feet, as if to challenge the new comer, but he hadn't a dagger or sword on him to protect their camp, even _if_ Sir Link meant them harm.

Tentatively, Zelda and her bard watched in tense silence as he tied his horse of at the nearest tree, and then drew near the fire, stretching sinewy fingers out to the flames. The cloak on his back was wet with the dew brought by the nights cold chill, but he seemed to not care.

For what felt like an eternity Link merely gazed into the fire, running his hands over the flame till he was satisfied, and sat down, unstrapping the sword across his shoulder and balancing it on his crossed knees. His eyes were hard to find under the shadow of his hooded cloak, but Zelda could feel the weight of them on her and her bard.

Milos was the first to crack under his scrutiny, and asked, "how did you find us?"

"Horse tracks aren't hard to follow," Link said curtly. "Especially when the riders take little care to lose them." Silence ensued again, and the eerie sensation of his eyes boring through Zelda worsened. For a fleeting moment she questioned if he truly was something more than Hylian. Not even her father could command the oppressive sensation that his impregnable silence created.

She could hear her heart beating. A dull thumping in her eardrums.

"So, you have nothing to say?" she asked, succumbing to the silence. "No admonishments?"

"What good will relaying them do?" he retorted firmly. "It is clear you don't want to hear them, nor would you heed them even if I did speak."

"Humor me," she said briskly out of spite. Link took a deep breath, and then exhaled in a long, irritated sigh.

"As your Appointed Knight it is my duty to keep you safe." He paused and turned his head slightly to bear down more precisely on Milos. "Not little court bards." Milos opened his mouth to retort vehemently, but he was quickly was overpowered by the Knights haunting stare. "You know full and well, Princess," he continued, "that danger could be waiting around any corner, any tree, bush, or boulder. If anything happens to you then we are all put in jeopardy. The Champions. The people. All of Hyrule. Regardless of how you feel on the matter, you must be protected at all costs. I have my duty, and you have yours. That is all. Goodnight."

And that was it. With absolute finality, he stood and returned to his horse to tend to it, gently relieving it of its heavy saddle bags and giving it water from the creek. Milos scooted closer to Zelda sheepishly, almost as if he were frightened by the looming knight just outside of the fire light, and neither said another word to each other.

The whole camp was filled with nothing but the sounds of the fire crackling, and the crickets droning. There was nothing to distract Zelda from the whirlwind of emotion swirling in her chest; anger, frustration, hopelessness. She had planned on outmaneuvering Link for even a day or two longer, knowing she wasn't going to outrun him forever, but… goddesses so soon? Not even a full day? She wanted to scream but couldn't. She wanted to deride her Appointed Knight, use anything she could to get the moral upper hand on him, but her lips were frozen shut.

And so, defeated, Zelda curled up into her bed roll, and watched in stark silence as Link kept watch over the camp, staring into nothing, and occasionally adding wood to keep the flames kindled to fend off the dark and cold.

* * *

Within the hour, the Princess and her bard had finally stopped uncomfortably shifting in their bedrolls―the telltale signs of slumber―and at last allowed himself to lean his back against the soft and warm belly of his resting horse. After a long day of sprinting, the poor thing needed to recuperate, so she sprawled out on the soft grass. His chosen beast of burden was a surprise find, in all honesty. A black mare of humble stock; she wasn't particularly fast or agile, but she was sure footed and incredibly receptive to his nudges.

Sasha was no valiant charger, that was for certain, but a fine horse all the same. More than he could ask for. She had carried him faithfully this far, and tomorrow she would do the same.

And so, under the dim fire light, Link retrieved his thin leather-bound notebook from his bags and began recording the day's events in short entries. It was a habit he picked up from Mipha. She was very adamant about keeping a diary―though she never let him read hers when they were children for some reason―and encouraged him to do the same.

In fact, she was the one that had gifted him the notebook in the first place. It felt rude not to use it.

And so, Link took a small pencil and roughly sketched in what he wanted to say, letting the withheld unpleasant words spinning wildly in his head leave his body through his fingers, immortalizing them in writing, and then closing the pages shut, fully intending to never look back on them again. It was the easiest way to let go. The only way.

"Milos." Link heard the Princess's soft voice whispering, even from afar. Words clearly not intended for his ears. "What was the answer to the last riddle?"

"He was right," the bard replied quietly.

"What?"

"He was right," Milos repeated, with a hint of disdain. "The answer is 'your imagination.'" The Princess murmured something to herself, and then sighed. "He shouldn't have spoken to you that way," the bard continued conspiratorially. "Its not right for a Knight to disrespect a lady like that, much less a princess."

The boy paused, and then as if to himself, he grumbled, "I ought to punch him in his smug nose. Teach him a lesson or two."

The Princess didn't respond. She merely sighed despondently and turned in her bedroll to gaze up at the stars. "Why him?" she asked of the heavens but heard no reply.

Bitterly, he asked the goddess above the same thing. But his answer did not come from above. It came from the blade resting in his lap. It gave the same answer it gave every time he asked that damned question.

 _Because you alone are worthy to wield the ancient power,_ the voice whispered, but he ignored it. If he was going insane then he had no intention of humoring the voices inside his head. There were more than enough voices outside that were driving him crazy already.

* * *

Gasp! A section of the story from Link's perspective? Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. Although, don't get too used to it, its a rare occurrence, my friends. But also, don't worry. We'll learn more about whats inside that head of his eventually, one way or the other!

Till then, please review and let me know what you think!

-Bold


	30. Book 2 Chapter 12

-Prelude VII-

Milos always prided himself on being a light sleeper―a trait he attributed to the countless generations of Shiekah before him; a warrior race adept in all means of surveillance and receptive observation―but on the bright morning after he aided the Princess's escape, he was rather abruptly startled from his overly deep slumber by an alarmingly firm grip on his shoulder.

"Goddesses above," he cried, heart nearly leaping out of his chest before sinking back to the ground, remembering his surroundings and u _nfortunately_ the circumstances. That damned golden-haired Knight stood over him, face as hard and unyielding as steel.

"Its time to get going, go wake the princess," he said simply, and then turned away to tend to the horses, who seemed to responded well to his gentle touches and nudges. Milos scanned the camp with blurry vision. The fire had been long put out, as all that remained was a smoldering pile of ash which trailed with a thin stream of smoke, leaving a distinct smell in the air. Blinking the bleary haze from his eyes, Milos stretched his arms above his head and yawned, shooting a few cold glares at Link's back.

 _Bloody Hero,_ he thought derisively before pulling himself from the warmth of his bedroll.

The bard still had mind to punch that Knight square in the nose, especially after he insulted Zelda like he did the night before. Couldn't he see that she was trying her best? That despite her insistent praying and dedication, Hylia saw it fit to affront her efforts with silence? And to think _he_ wanted to shame her for it! A man _that_ cold and unfeeling was no man at all, in his opinion. And anyone with half a brain would agree.

No, Milos just wouldn't stand for it. Hero or no Hero, he'd make Link rue the day he dishonored the princess.

And speaking of the princess, Milos shuffled over to the tight bundle of blankets and fur that was Zelda's bedding, and reached out to stir her. She looked so peaceful there, wrapped up in the warmth of her bedroll. So peaceful and so beautiful that he felt bad for disturbing her well deserved rest. He hated seeing her frown all the time… the way the world bore down on her shoulders, dragging her in the dirt and battered her spirit. She deserved better. She deserved happiness, and every smile that could be had.

But now… Well, his music could not make her smile as easily as it once did, even when he wrote sweetened songs just for her. That fact tore at his heart. He just wanted to see Zelda smile again and laugh, emerald eyes sparkling like starlight… That was the princess he loved the most. And that damn _'Hero'_ was ruining everything. He really should have just waltzed up and greeted Link's face with the knuckles on his right hand.

"Princess," he said, shaking her shoulder. "Its time to get up―ow!" Inevitably Zelda wasn't nearly as peaceful at waking than when she slept! Just as his hand touched the smooth skin of her arm, the princess's eyes shot open, and on instinct, launched a closed fist right into his nose, yelping in fear.

"Oh goddess, Milos," she gasped, just realizing what she had done in the limbo between sleeping and waking. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. You scared me."

"Its alright, Princess," Milos mumbled into his hands as the covered his nose and eyes―admittedly to hide the spring of tears welling up in them; he wasn't going to show that weakness. Especially not in front of her. But Hylia above it stung! It felt like his nose was on fire.

And while their rounding dance of Zelda apologizing and Milos assuring her it was all right went in circles, Link continued prepping the horses for a long day of riding, a carefully hidden smirk tickling his lips. Silently, he whispered thanks to his predecessor for the advice on waking the Princess.

* * *

Chapter Twelve

To Challenge a Champion

On the high winds well above the rocky spire of Rito Village, Revali soared with all the ease and well-practiced grace of a warrior bred for the sky. Up here he felt like he could truly breathe… truly relax. The cold air rushed through the folds of his feathers, and every breath filled his lungs with an icy sensation. He lived for that sensation.

It was a good day for flying.

From his perspective, his village was little more than a dot on the canvas of the world, and when he focused his gaze, he could count the people carrying about their day, living happy and peacefully. There was Misses Bell with her little ones all marching in a row singing the sweet songs of their people, the old crotchety Mister Valu perched in his loft, no doubt grumbling about this and that while he drew steams of smoke from a long-stemmed corn pipe, and of course young Mal the tailor, Lan the fletcher, Madi the cook… The list could go on, but the gist of it was that they were all happy and safe.

It made his heart swell with pride.

After all, Elder Kenali had tasked him with their peoples' safety, and that was no small task indeed. It took hard work and dedication to achieve mastery of the sky like he had… and a good teacher. His father before him was the greatest Rito to have ever been know among their kind, it was only natural that his son would take on in his place as the most skilled archer of the Rito when he passed on. ' _These are your people, Revali,'_ he once told him. _'It is your duty, your greatest honor, to help them, down to the smallest hatchling.'_

And down to the smallest hatchling he would.

In all honesty, it was only because of those same words he ever accepted Princess Zelda's plea for help. The fool girl seemed so hopeless―much like a little bird falling from its nest just trying to flap her wings―and as much as he hated the idea of being only deemed _second_ to that little _Knight_ with the _darkness sealing blade,_ he answered the call of Hyrule's future queen. One way or another, he'd show that piggish beast Ganon what a real warrior looked like.

It was going to be his ultimate challenge.

Besides, what an excellent opportunity it was to set himself on the center stage and show once and for all that Revali of little humble Rito Village could be just as good as any Hero; that he didn't need anything quite as pretentious as a magic sword to protect the hatchlings and new-wingers of the world. _Yes,_ he thought, glistening with pride. _I'll show them all. They'll write songs about me._

Catching the tail end of a large airstream, Revali launched himself higher until he nearly touched the clouds, and then inverted his body with a twist of his tail, driving himself into a steep dive that challenged the earth below to an overly high-stake game of Cucco. He found it was the best way to train his reaction time. The closer he could get to the ground before leveling out, the better.

However, before he could offer his challenge, a speck of white just cresting over the countryside caught the attention of his keen eyes. Leveling out, he focused his gaze on the white speck, and counted a majestic horse and slender rider. And then behind that one, another shaggy horse and a rider, and after that a black mare bearing a soldier with a very _particular_ purple-hilted blade on his back.

 _What are they doing here,_ he wondered?

Pumping his wings, Revali regained altitude, and then dove once more into the countryside, landing deftly on his talons just before the Princess and her little _Knight._ As she always was when he showed off his unmatched skill in the art of flight, Princess Zelda's mouth hung agape in awe. And Link… well… Revali was certain a stump could be more expressive than him. But the third rider―who he couldn't recall meeting before―seemed just as awestruck as the Princess.

"Well, well," the Rito said proudly, sticking his chest out. "I wasn't expecting a royal audience today, Princess. What brings you to Rito Village?"

"I've come to perform a check up on Vah Medoh," she replied, something of a forced smile on her lips. But it went sour when she glanced over her shoulder at Link. "And… company just came along." No doubt that ' _company'_ was heavily pointed only at the Knight, and not the other rider beside her; that Sheikah seemed as unhappy with Link's presence as the Princess. "I apologize I did not send word ahead of me, I was rather rushed to get out of the castle."

"Hylians always are in a huge rush, I've noticed," Revali laughed, "but your apology is unnecessary, Princess. Rito Village is always open to those who need it. Come along, I can take you directly to Vah Medoh. Faster than any four-legged beast can." Putting on his most debonair smile, Revali motioned for the Princess to clamber up onto his back. And although it took a considerable amount of reassurance, the Princess finally agreed, and with a nervous laughter wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging his back.

"Princess," the Sheikah called out worriedly, struggling to keep his horse still, "where will _we_ go?"

"To Rito Village of course," she replied, finding a little courage as Revali readied himself to launch them skyward with his revered Gale. "I'll see you when I get back, Milos. Don't worry, I'll be fine." The fool boy frowned so much like a lost puppy it almost made the Revali scoff with mirth.

"Revali." The Rito paused and looked over his shoulder. It was the first time he had even hear Link speak, now that he thought about it. He had always just assumed the Hero was either too slow or just down right intimidated by his obviously superior skills in aerial combat. "Keep her safe."

"Hah! She's as safe with me as she is in Hyrule Castle." Revali smirked. "Take care, _Hero._ "

Summoning the innate power within his core, Revali called forth the roaring whirlwind he dubbed Revali's Gale, and soared upwards, lifting himself and Zelda with absolute ease. Zelda screamed at first, but the higher they climbed and the smoother the flight became, her screaming transitioned into hysterical laughter. Zelda had not fear falling with him as her transport. Besides, she was a tiny thing to begin with, and he had more than enough strength to carry them to the deck of his Divine Beast: the mighty fortress in the sky, Vah Medoh.

The massive machine truly was something to behold, he thought.

As graceful as any Rito in flight―excluding himself of course―Vah Medoh drifted on the currents of the heavens in a perpetual spiral around their home, the dull thumping noise of her propellers drowning out all other noises the closer they came. Her wings spread proud and wide, her beak piercing the clouds, Vah Medoh was a testament to what it meant to be Rito.

"Home sweet home," Revali said, brimming with pride as he landed two talons on the deck of his ship.

"That was incredible, Revali," Zelda breathed airlessly, seeming a little light headed by the sudden change in altitude. He had forgotten that Hylians bodies were easily upset by heights. "I'm glad to see Vah Medoh is functioning as intended… has she given you any problems?"

"None that I couldn't iron out myself," he replied, leading Zelda into the quieter inner chambers of the Divine Beast. "Which makes me wonder why you're _really_ here." The Zelda slowed, and bit her lip.

"Well…" she hesitated. "It is true that I want do a check up on Vah Medoh, even if she is functioning just fine, but truthfully… I came in hopes of escaping Sir Link." Revali crooked an eyebrow at her.

"It seems you've done a fine job of losing him," he said with no small amount of sarcasm. "Is he truly that insufferably to be around? Not that I blame you." Hylia above, he knew he'd get tired of seeing that smug little Knight practically shoving that _Sword_ in everyone's face all the time as if he thought himself so special. _Pah!_

"I can't stand being around him," Zelda admitted, frowning a little as her head sunk. "But it seems I won't be able to shake him off anytime soon. Father made him my Appointed Knight…"

Revali made a sound of disgust. He couldn't imagine having that _boy_ on his tail all the time. And in that sense, he pitied the Hylian princess. "Well, it won't be for long," he assured her, "We'll dispatch of Ganon soon enough." Oddly, the sentiment didn't seem to lift her spirits any.

However, exploring the inside of Vah Medoh certainly did. Before long the Princess was pacing back and forth examining every square inch of the Divine Beast like a school girl in class, rambling and musing over _gyroscopes_ and _laws of gravity_ and all sorts of science nonsense that he could not have cared any less for. More than once she asked for his input on certain matters―usually when they pertained to the physics behind flight―and although he tried to answer what he could, it began to wear him down. Question after question, the Princess knew how to talk ones ear off.

How ironic it was that her counter part wouldn't say but four words at a time.

Soon enough, however, the questions became a little to difficult for him to answer―he did hate not knowing the answers everything―so announcing that he would return soon to retrieve her, Revali returned to the sky on his own wings, spiraling gently down to his home village. And by chance, out on his very own landing, he spotted Link.

An idea began to form in his mind, and the Rito smirked.

* * *

Revali arose from the lowest reaches of Rito Village with all the showiness his special abilities could offer and with a last few flaps of his wings, he perched himself on the railing before the _supposed_ Hylian Champion, wielder of the Master Sword, and puffed his chest out. It was the _proper_ way to offer someone a duel.

"Impressive, I know," he said with a bit of cheek. "Very few can achieve a mastery of the sky. Yet I have made an art of creating and updraft that allows me to soar. It's considered to be quite the masterpiece of aerial techniques, even among the Rito." So far, the Hylian hadn't moved a muscle… he was a strange boy, that was for sure, but Revali continued without hesitation. "With proper utilization of my superior skills, I see no reason why we couldn't easily dispense with Ganon."

Hopping down from the railing so that he could pace around the Hero, Revali clasped his wings behind his back and took smooth, calculated steps.

"Now then, my ability to explore the firmament is certainly of note." _Firmament._ Revail wondered if the boy even knew what that meant. "But lets not―pardon me for being so blunt―lets not forget the fact that I am the most skilled archer of all the Rito." He paused and stroked under his beak. "Yet despite these truths I have been tapped to merely assist you. All because you happen to have that little darkness sealing blade on your back." For once, Link moved, and glanced over his shoulder to the hilt peaking behind his head. This was his moment. "I mean it's just… asinine."

He let the words sink in, and then Revali grinned.

"Unless," he continued. "You think you can prove me wrong? Maybe we should just settle this one on one?" The fool boy still hadn't said a word, so Revali pressed in further. "But where…? Oh I know! How about up there?" With a flurry of his wing, he gestured to the heavens, where Vah Medoh loomed above them like an angelic warrior of the skies. And yet still, Link did not answer his challenge.

 _Very well,_ he thought. _He's probably to cucco to fight me anyways. Its not worth my time._

"Oh, you must pardon me," Revali laughed. "I forgot you have no way of making it to that Divine Beast on your own." And with his challenged offered yet not accepted, Revali shot up into the air once more, admittedly a little disappointed he wouldn't get his chance to face down the _legendary―supposedly―_ Hero of Hyrule. "Good luck sealing the darkness!"

* * *

Night had descended on Rito Village by the time Zelda made it back to the surface, and she had more than enough notes kept in her research book to keep her busy for hours more, but alas, her stomach growled for something more than just water.

Naturally, Elder Kenali insisted that she join him and Revali for a warm dinner, which vicariously extended unfortunately to Link. But he kept quiet in the far corner of the Elder's hut―like he always did―so Zelda managed to ignore the haunting image of him always at her back for the majority of their dinner. In fact, she almost forgot he was even there, especially when Milos offered to play a wonderfully lively tune for their gracious hosts.

For some odd reason the song reminded her of a green forest, where the trees and vines grew wild, and the spirits of the forest once again took on their forms as young Kokiri child in their eternal youth. Laughing, running, playing. It all seemed like a vivid dream in her mind... It made her want to dance.

And dance she did! With Revali, with Kenali, and even with Milos, who by some miracle could simultaneously strum his instrument while keeping in perfect stepping order of the jig he performed as her hands rested on his shoulders. And when the music caught the ears of the villagers, all came to join in the festivities, joining along in song and drum.

Yes, for a long while the Princess's cheeks grew flush and warm with the thrill and effort of dancing, and in spite of the circumstances that brought her there she couldn't help but smile and feel light hearted as the strong drinks of the Rito tickled her tongue, and the melody Milos's music entranced her feet. The foolish bard grinned like a child when she danced with him, even with his red and irritated nose.

She still felt awful about earlier that morning.

Well into the night they danced, until at last her feet could take no more, and with warm thanks and wishes for good nights, Zelda made her way to the room generously offered to her near Revali's landing with eager thoughts of sleep. Walking under the pale moon light, the cool breeze of the night felt good against her hot skin, so she peeled back her overcoat and breathed with relief, taking her sweet old time to climb the spiraling stairs of the village.

However, before she turned in, something―or more accurately someone―caught her attention. A shadowed form leaning against the railing of the nearby landing. It took a moment for her to make out who it was, but the moment she did she nearly hurried up the stairs without a moment to lose… and yet… she stayed.

It must have been her curiosity getting the best of her, she thought, but Zelda couldn't pull her eyes away from the sight of Link standing there completely alone on the landing, staring out listlessly to the wild mountains surrounding the village as the moon illuminated their white peaks, and the stars shining above. He seemed almost… lonely. Sad even, as ridiculous as it sounded. But…

 _No,_ she assured herself. Clearly, he preferred being alone. Why else would he be so quiet all the time? _So irritably silent_.

Forcing herself to forget the sight, Zelda continued her way up to her room, and tucked herself into bed. And yet despite her best efforts, the imagine of him out there all alone wouldn't leave her mind alone. And she didn't know why.

* * *

Oooo, is Zelda becoming aware?

Just you wait, my lovely readers...

As always, I hope you enjoyed!

-Bold


	31. Book 2 Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The Manor on the Hill

Admittedly it was a bit of surprise to Zelda how little Link _actually_ hindered her from going where she wished. She had been half expecting him to incessantly shake his finger at her with 'no, that's too dangerous' or 'how will this help your training' on his lips―no doubt a direct order from her father―but in truth, he nearly always just nodded once to her suggestions, and silently trailed behind her like a lumbering shadow.

Odd behavior, Zelda thought, but as long as he didn't get in her way, she could learn to tolerate it.

Of course, it was unsettling sensation to feel his eyes boring holes into her back everywhere they went, however with time and a little effort she could manage forget he was there or distract herself with observational ramblings. Which she was quite good at.

Zelda mostly spoke aloud for her own interests. Hearing her voice repeat what went on in her head seemed to help her remember certain details easier, and it allowed her the chance to analyze her observations with a little more clarity. It didn't seem like Link made any effort to listen though, unless she addressed him directly, which was almost never. No, he would just walk or ride behind her, eyes scanning the surroundings as if searching for trouble. Of course, trouble never came.

And so, across Hyrule Field and beyond the Princess performed her scholarly studies, paying especially close attention to the ruined remnants of Sheikah Shrines half buried beneath the ground.

But, when there was inevitably only so much she could observe and notate about the relics of old, her attention usually drifted towards the wild life. Out there in the forests and plains of Hyrule, you never knew what would spring out of a bush next, and all it took was a little perseverance and determination to track them down for further scientific analysis. It was one of Zelda's favorite pastimes.

However, on a particularly overcast late summer day, that pastimes brought about… _interesting_ ramifications.

It was on the road near the Hylia River, where the ground grew soft and boggy until the countless ponds of the Lanayru Wetlands began to spring up, that an animal of peculiar habits darted across their path, long fluffy tail flicking and fluttering with every powerful kick from its hind legs. The animal, which was roughly the size and shape of a common fox, wore a coat of yellowish fur, with tufts of black and white on its paws, chest, and most predominantly, long black-tipped ears that stuck straight up, framing a pointed face and beady little eyes. Slowing in the middle of the road, the creature regarded them with a keen cautiousness.

"A Keaton!" Zelda clapped a hand over her mouth the moment she shouted it, having let her excitement get the better of her and scarring the little critter off with a scampering yap. Such a creature was rare as rare could be in Hyrule. Even in their homeland of Termina they fetched outrageous prices among only the wealthiest of merchants and businessmen. With their luxurious fur said to be _the_ softest coat in the animal kingdom and relatively docile behavior, they were always kept as highly esteemed exotic pets. To the point of near extinction.

How one made it out here into the wild, Zelda could not imagine, but she was very intent on observing the little thing as closely as she could. _Perhaps,_ she thought excitedly, _if we observe it in the wild we can learn how to save them from extinction._

And so, without an explanation, Zelda roughly leapt down from her saddle―much to her horses' irritated protest―and set chase through the brush of the wetlands! There were too many holes and soft patches in the swamps of Lanayru to bring a horse through safely―all it took was one misstep to break a leg―and besides that she never was a very good rider to begin with.

"Princess!"

Zelda ignored Link's call. She would be fine without him for a few minutes. Besides, if he was really that worried about her safety then he would follow suit. A sly smile crept across her lips as her heart beat faster with every stride… it was almost exhilarating running from him! The last time she and Milos had run off she was far to angry to feel anything but bitterness and relief from escaping Link's grasp. But now, as she dodged between trees, chasing the cute little yellow tails that stuck up above the bushes, she almost wanted to laugh!

That is, at least, until her foot got caught on an upturned tree root and she tripped, landing face first into the dirt.

She couldn't recall how long she had actually ran, but given that she could barely breath is must have been a respectable distance. Not that it really mattered now, the throbbing pain that tore across her ankle occupied every ounce of her attention.

"Oh goddessdam―" Zelda bit of the end of that curse as hard as she could, fearing it would further invoke the wrath of Hylia, but heavens above did her ankle hurt. And her face too. Reaching up with a trembling hand, she ran finger across her skin, but only found mud and no broken skin. That, at least, was a relief.

Zelda tried to move, but the moment she put weight on her leg, searing pain shot up through her muscles and she slumped back down into mud, whimpering like a hurt puppy.

It seemed she wasn't going to be chasing Keatons anytime soon.

"What of Hylia's green earth are you doing, Princess?" Zelda had half a mind to try to stand up and run again as soon as she heard Link barreling through the bushes, but a jolt of pain that caused her to suck in air through her clenched teeth kept her down. _Goddesses above,_ she groaned _._

Of all the ways to embarrass herself further in front of her Appointed Knight, this by far was the worst. Sitting there like a useless flower, face turning every color of red imaginable, Zelda thought being swallowed up by the marshy wetlands, doomed to never resurface, would have been a better fate than to face the Hero Chosen by the Sword in her abdominal situation.

And now she was going to have to ask him for help!

"I didn't want to hurt the horses," she offered as an explanation, wincing as she propped herself up on her elbows. "It would have been to dangerous for them… they could have tripped―" Zelda fell silent, sulking with embarrassment due to the irony of her words.

As if it were a reply, Link made some kind of sighing grunt.

"Keatons are a very rare breed," she continued, hoping to lessen her humility. "I couldn't just let such a grand opportunity go to―ow!" Link knelt down beside her, and gently cupped her foot in his hands. "I couldn't let it go to waste. I've never seen one."

"And so you thought it a good idea to bolt off without an explanation?" His tone, for all its lowness, was markedly angry. Although, the fierce scowl marring his face was arguably far worse. Zelda swallowed deeply, trying to work moisture back into her mouth. Link was terrifying when he was angry.

"I…" Zelda yelped with pain as Link continued to examine her ankle, slowly working the heel of her boot off of her foot. He went slow, but it took a considerable amount of willpower to not cry as he slowly peeled back her boot and sock completely. When his calloused fingers began to poke her skin, she wanted to jerk away. It was so foreign, so strange… so…. She couldn't explain it, but it sent a shiver up her spine, and she nearly moved to slap his hand away. But Zelda mastered her emotions before they took control, withholding her tongue.

He could have asked first, _at least!_

"It doesn't seem broken," Link declared, eyebrows furrowing as he meticulously analyzed the swelling and bruised mess that was her ankle. "But you've definitely sprained it. Badly. Do you think you can walk?" Regretfully, Zelda shook her head. Link gave a long sigh.

"We will have to either return to the castle or make camp at a nearby stable. You're not climbing Death Mountain anytime soon." There wasn't a question in his tone, it was an order. An order! Just who did he think he was?

"I'm not turning back now," Zelda grumbled. "Daruk's Divine Beast needs very important adjustments―ow!" She could have sworn he turned her ankle on purpose in his hands. "We will proceed as normal―ow! All I need is to get back on my horse. I will be fine then."

"And when we reach Death Mountain and have to ditch the horses, what will you do then?" His eyebrow rose critically. When did he become so outwardly standoffish, she wondered? Even after he had caught her after her daring escape to Rito Village, he seemed so tempered compared to now…

"I'll figure it out when we get there… we still have at least another day of riding. My ankle will be fine by then." Link shook his head.

"This isn't up for debate, Princess," he said sharply. "We're returning to the castle, or we're setting camp until you are strong enough to walk on your own."

"And you're the one to give orders now?" Zelda retorted sourly, irritably accepting his hand as he helped her stand on one foot. "Last I checked―"

"In this matter, yes," he interrupted. "Your safety is my duty. Regardless of how you feel on the matter. And I can't have you hiking up a volcano with an ankle as twisted as yours." And with that, his lips sealed shut, and no more arguing seemed to rile him enough to speak again.

 _Bloody Hero,_ Zelda thought, limping with each step as she wrapped an arm around Link's neck to support herself on one leg. She hated being this close to him… even more so being close to that damned Sword on his back, but she knew her cause was lost. Regrettably, Zelda admitted defeat.

The horses were right where they left them by the time they trudged back through the boggy wetlands, idly chewing on the grass. With a sharp whistle, Link called them closer, and to Zelda's surprise, they listened intently with twitching ears, and moseyed over after their mid-afternoon snack, gladly answering his call.

 _Hylia above._ So, he was some kind of horse-whisperer too? _Why must he be so good at everything!?_ She couldn't even ride a horse with confidence. Zelda still felt like a clumsy bumpkin while horseback―she nearly fell off at least twice during her escape just days before.

But that was in the past. Now she had to figure out how to ride with only one foot.

Without a word, Link moved her arm from around his neck and positioned himself behind her, hands coming to grip around her hips. That itching desire to slap his hands away again flared at the forefront of her head, but before she could, he lifted her up into her horses saddle as easily as one would lift a knapsack.

"A little warning, next time," she sneered, snatching the reins in her hands as she tried to get into a position where her ankle wouldn't be bothered by the stirrup.

"A little warning next time you go running off into the forest, Princess." If his voice wasn't so stone cold, she would have thought his tone to hold a little cheek. Zelda glared at the back of his head as he mounted his horse with ease.

"Its about to rain," he said once he was situated. "We should get going. There's a stable nearby, on the east bank of the Hylia River, or…" He fell silent, eyes turning northwest towards the hills.

"Or what?" Link gave her question a considerable pause.

"Fort Cernel is not far from here," he said deeply, eyes lost in the trees of the wetlands. "The estate of Lady Hamish…"

"Is it closer than the stable?" Zelda asked, cautiously rubbing the swelling skin around her ankle. She bit her tongue when a jolt of pain ran up her leg. She wasn't sure she'd make it very far. "Is it?"

Link nodded.

"Well. Then I think its best we pay Lady Hamish a surprise visit. My ankle is…." She grimaced. "It's not good." Link never responded to that, but all the same they spurred their horses into an easy and slow walk, and made their heading due northwest.

Zelda had only ever met Lady Hamish once before, during some sort of soiree at the castle. She seemed like a respectable woman; polite, eloquent, and remarkably pretty, but outside of that Zelda had little memory of her. There were of course so many Knights and Ladies to remember, being the Princess of Hyrule and all, but in truth, Zelda could hardly ever bring herself to keep each and every one of them in mind very often.

And so, as they rode up the hill to the estate of Lady Hamish, Zelda scoured her mind for everything she could remember.

Lady Hamish had two children, Zelda recalled, though she couldn't remember their ages. But one was named Byron… she thought him to be quite handsome, if she could recall his face correctly. It had been at least five years since she saw him. And then he had a sister… _Oh what is her name?_ Zelda mused. _Aryll… no… Alice…_ None of that sounded quite right to her.

 _Arin!_ That was it. The youngest daughter was named Arin.

But that nagging sensation that there was still more for her to remember kept bothering her mind. What was special about Lady Hamish? It was right on the tip of her tongue so to speak… as if she had been the topic of discussion not to long ago. Maybe it was the name? Maybe something had her recently? Or maybe she had read the name in the papers?

Zelda pondered and wondered till she fell into a haze of thoughts.

But before she even had time to realize that she had been lost in her own head for nearly an hour and a half, Link's horse came to an abrupt stop, and ahead of them loomed the tall castle-estate of the Hamish family: Fort Crenel.

 _I must have been daydreaming again._ Her father hated when she did that; lose herself in her own thoughts till she was unaware of the world around her. It never was intentional… it just happened. There was just always so much to think about.

"Princess."

Zelda looked down at her side, and found Link looking up at her, hands outstretched and ready to help her down. Begrudgingly, she leaned down, and stabilized herself against his shoulders with her hands, allowing her leg to be gently swept over her horse without disturbing her ankle. With a grunt and puff of pain, Zelda landed on one foot, just barely keeping her balance as she leaned against her Appointed Knight.

Together they carefully climbed the stairs to the front door of the estate.

Link paused hesitantly as his fingers wrapped around the knocker of the massive wooden door, but it was only a moment. He struck it twice with a resounding boom. And after a long while, the door finally swung open, and a tall man with wiry silver hair greeted them, eyes widening and jaw dropping with shock.

"Link? Is it really you?"

Zelda furrowed her eyebrows thoughtfully. The servant recognized Link? When had he ever been…?

And in the blink of an eye that itching question in her head had been answered. Zelda remembered why the name Hamish seemed so recently familiar… this was the house of Link's father, the late Sir Hamish!

That would have explained why he was so hesitant to come here…

"Telmar," Link said. "May I introduce the Princess of Hyrule."

* * *

Muahaha!

My sinister side has been looking forward to this next chapter.

Till next time!

-Bold


	32. Book 2 Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Lady of the Hill

Mister Telmar, as Zelda quickly learned him to be called, seemed to be an amiable old butler to say in the least. Though he seemed a little shaken by their unannounced arrival―she was sure those mustache tails of his would fall out if he kept tugging on them―he was more than welcoming. With thin mops of silver hair combed neatly over his balding head and a large jagged nose that framed a wrinkly old face he was a far cry from a handsome man, but his smile more than made up for that. There was an innate warmth to his expression.

And after such a _wonderfully_ eventful day, she needed that little touch of warmth to boost her spirits.

With a huff and a puff of effort, he led them in graciously, hurriedly ordering footmen and maids about like a commander on his battlements, assuredly but not roughly, and always with good graces. It set a buzz of shuffling servants across the whole of the Hamish estate, like little neat ants marching to their mound in an orderly fashion.

Far more orderly than at the castle, if Zelda did say so herself.

But, it had been more than an hour since she had seen Mister Telmar now. Not shortly after he and Link had hoisted her into an ornate sitting room chair, grumpy physician in tow, the two men disappeared into another room, whispering quietly to one another while the doctor tended to her swelling ankle. When the door had closed behind them, she could no longer make out what they said as their hushed voices vanished down the corridor.

It was obvious they knew each other quite well… she had never seen Link speak so closely and animatedly with any one like that before, even if it was just whispering. And as much as Zelda didn't want to admit it, that fact alone tickled her sense of curiosity. Would Mister Telmar be able to tell her more about her silent Appointed Knight, she wondered? Perhaps he could give her insight on the boy who freed the Sword… something she could use to her advantage.

After all, being forced to travel Hyrule with that _boy_ stalking her coattails was bad enough, she wouldn't have minded having a little _something_ to shift things in her favor. Why, in the example earlier that day, he made it clear he could be stubbornly resolute in deciding where they would and would not go. Zelda still had mind to leave for Death Mountain in the morning, but she doubted Link would allow that happen unless she could _persuade_ him _._

Besides, this was the last thing in her life she felt like she had any control over anymore. With so many people telling her what she can and cannot do, she had to fight for the little things, and no Knight with a special sword was going to stop her from doing what she put her mind to.

"You'll have to refrain from moving that leg as much as possible, your Majesty," the physician finally said when his examination was finished. "Otherwise you'll run the risk of injuring it further. Give it time to heal."

"How long will it be until it is safe to walk again?"

"A day at least," he answered grumbly, pushing up his spectacles. "But at least two days until you can ride a horse. The muscles are tender and swelling. Moving to soon would only make the pain worse."

She was willing to deal with that.

"Very well," she lied.

With an affirmative grunt, the grumpy old physician began to pack up his hastily put together care bag, and made for the door of the sitting room, when suddenly it swung open, admitting in a graceful and tall creature. As she entered, Lady Hamish's presence seemed to dominate the room, a force demanding ever attention. Though her face was soft and lovely as cream, and her lips rich with color and beauty, Zelda couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by her cool eyes and regal posture.

She was by all accounts, the picture-perfect example of a gracious lady of Hyrulean upbringing.

"Well, well," she said with a lax silvery voice, lips smiling attractively, long locks of dark brown hair swaying with every step. "I must admit, your Majesty, I was rather disbelieving of my kind butler when he told me of your unexpected arrival, but I see I have misjudged. Please forgive me for being unpunctual, I hope Doctor Levi was of use?"

"He was most helpful, Lady Hamish," Zelda replied politely, sitting up straighter in her chair. It was considered rude among nobles to not stand when meeting someone new, but given the circumstances, it wasn't exactly convenient. Luckily Lady Hamish did not seem to mind. "I must give you my sincerest thanks for allowing us into your lovely home, I pray I won't be of a burden to you…"

"Nonsense," she laughed lightly, though it was the sort of laugh all great ladies laughed. That airy, silvery laugh that was pretty to the ear, but perhaps not exactly authentic. "It is a great honor to host our Kingdom's beloved Princess. You are of course welcome in my home to come and go as you please, your Majesty." Lady Hamish smiled again. "May I ask, do you remember me, or just my name, Princess?"

Zelda swallowed hesitantly, not wanting to be rude. But… well, there was no sense in lying about this.

"Your family name I remember." Lady Hamish nodded approvingly at that. "Sir Hamish was an esteemed Knight among my father's counsel, but I'm afraid your face does not ring a bell. Have we formally met before?" Lady Hamish chuckled with some odd amusement.

"Formally, yes," she answered as she drifted to chair opposite of Zelda and sank into it lightly. "But I recall that you were but a young child. So small and precious, much like my own daughter, Arin. I suppose it would be unfair to expect such a young girl to remember so many faces, however." Lady Hamish tapped a slender finger on her chin. "Never mind that, dear Princess, let us start anew, and get to know one another over a proper dinner. I am sure you're famished." The gnawing sensation in Zelda's stomach was a testament to that truth.

"I would be honored to dine with you," she replied.

"Excellent," Lady Hamish chimed, that pretty smile of hers never wavering. "The kitchen has already been set into full motion. I'm sure they will be ready to retrieve us soon enough. But my, where are my manners? We will discuss such things later. Right now, I wish to know what unusual circumstances have brought the Princess of Hyrule and that… boy to my doorstep."

It was only then when her smile, while still lovely, seemed to loose a hint of its lustrousness, and the tone of her soft voice grew darker. Zelda couldn't help but crook an eyebrow questioningly. "I had heard news of the Master Sword of course―that some village boy from Hateno had freed it and was promptly knighted―but I must admit, I would have never could have imagined it to have been him…"

"I recall that Sir Link was once a servant in these halls, yes?" Zelda cleared her throat. Something about Lady Hamish's piercing gaze made her stomach work itself into knots.

"He was to be my late husband's Ward Protector," Lady Hamish answered, lip curling distastefully. "Though I assume you know that never came to pass for… _obvious_ reasons."

"I am sorry for your loss, of course, Lady Hamish," Zelda intoned earnestly. She knew the pain of losing a loved one, after all. A bitter affair that was. "But if I may, why didn't Sir Link stay and continue his duty? Surely he was well trained enough to still serve as a Ward for your family?" That enquiry seemed to resonate with Lady Hamish for a long while, and in an obviously negative way. Zelda regretted asking such a direct question so soon.

The silence was palpable.

Social interaction never was her strong suit. After all, Zelda never really had time for socializing. She was far to focused on her prayers and research till there was little room for much else. Who would have time to be a princess when you must train to fight off a world eating beast?

"I apologize," Zelda piped hurriedly, hoping to save face a little. After all, it only made sense that it would be a touchy subject. Link was her stepson in a sense―shamefully so―so it was only natural that she would be hesitant to give say in the matter. Of course, Lady Hamish wasn't aware that Zelda knew that truth, but she wasn't going to bring that scandal to light if it could be helped.

One's confidences should be kept as one sees it fit, she thought.

No, Zelda would just have to wait until Lady Hamish was either more comfortable with relaying the truth to her, or not at all. "Perhaps it is too personal a question. Sir Link was never very open about speaking of his time here either."

Lady Hamish forced a polite smile with excellent precision.

"It is quite alright, Princess," she said smoothly. "I am not afraid to admit that my… arrangements with the boy are nothing of particularly cheerful disposition. And I see by the look on your face you too have your doubts and misgivings of the boy, yes?" Zelda stared at the fine lady surprised.

Lady Hamish chuckled, and this time it had a real weight to it.

"Of course you would," she said, leaning back into her chair as a slender hand rested under her chin. "That boy was ever a thorn in my side all the years he was under my roof. And now I see he has pulled up his roots and chosen another fine lady bury his barbs into. Look can be deceiving, Princess. He may look and act like a simpleton, but he is a quick witted and conniving little thing."

"I wouldn't put it quite like…" Zelda hesitated. _But is it not?_ After all, of every interaction she had with him he was either stone cold or seemingly working in opposition to her every move. Whether or not it was at the order of the King, Link had certainly been a thorn in her side.

Perhaps Lady Hamish would be a fine ally in all this…

"He is… difficult," Zelda admitted, feeling a little weight from her withheld frustration seeping away. "Sir Link all but ignores me if he can, and even when he does speak it is curt at best." Lady Hamish nodded deeply, as if she understood exactly what she meant. "He tries my patience incessantly, stalking my back every step I take, as if he's keeping me under lock and key in case I linger from my path. He is nothing quite like what I expected the Hero chosen by the Sword to be. I expected someone…" she sighed, struggling to find words.

"You expected a Hero like from the stories?" Lady Hamish suggested. "Chivalrous, courageous, outstanding?"

"Exactly!" Zelda nearly clapped a hand over her mouth after blurting that out. This was going far faster than she had anticipated. One moment they were nearly strangers a now Zelda couldn't help but find something of a kindred spirit in the Lady of the Hill. She finally had found someone other than Milos and Revali who seemed mindful of Link's devices.

Lady Hamish grinned as if knowingly. She was devilishly perceptive, Zelda realized.

"I think, Princess, that you and I will get along just fine." Lady Hamish's smart grin grew larger. "Shall we continue this discussion over dinner?"

* * *

Zelda felt like a new woman with the sweat and grime of the long ride over washed away by a quick bath. She was quite impressed with how efficiently the maids worked as they filled the tub with warm water, toting bucket after bucket in a continuous march, expertly dodging their coworkers as they passed. Once again, the image of little ants orderly marching to their mound popped into Zelda's head.

Fresh clothes were given to her as well to borrow, a simple but elegant gown that belonged to the young Lady Arin to her understanding. Surprisingly, it fit her quite well, if only they were a little too tight around her hips. Not that it mattered too much, she would be sitting for the rest of the day anyways.

Shortly after her soak in the tub, Zelda was escorted to the dining room by a slender footman who rolled in a wheelchair. He was a polite gentleman, well-spoken and confident, though in a way he was rather straight-faced and unrevealing much like Link was.

She wondered if he knew Link well.

Not that she was going to take up his valuable time asking nonsensical questions. He was a man going about his business, it would have been rude to interfere. And so, with a short walk―or ride―down a few of the estate corridors, Zelda was sitting at the dinner table, with Lady Hamish at the head of it. As always, her face was in a lovely expression caught somewhere between amusement and interest, though there was a touch of impatience there too.

"How wonderful you look out of those sturdy traveling clothes," Lady Hamish said. "You truly have grown to be as beautiful as your mother, you know?"

"Thank you," she replied kindly. "My father said the same once…" _Once._ It had been a long time since he had said anything quite as kind as that. "I can only hope I can live up to the legacy she left behind."

"And why wouldn't you?" Lady Hamish said coolly. Zelda looked at her doubtfully. Surely everyone thought she would be a failure… if not in awakening her powers but in rising to the throne. "It is true, I have heard the gossipmongers and the naysayers, but any fool can say such slanderous things. But I have yet to find any fault in you yet, young Princess."

"You are too kind, Lady Hamish," Zelda replied sheepishly. Was it all just flattery or was it the truth, she wondered? "But some gossipmongers bear truths…" Zelda hesitated, and then let the words die out in her mouth. Complaining about it wasn't going to help anyone. Of course, some spoke truth. She had yet to perform her duty as the daughter of the Royal Family. That was her conviction.

"Come now, Princess," Lady Hamish said laxly, "let us not speak of such unpleasant things. Please, tell me more about―"

Abruptly, the door to the dining room burst open. A young woman entered then, bearing a striking resemblance to Lady Hamish, although her hair was far lighter and longer, and markedly less kempt. She took deeps breathes with each step, chest rising and falling, as if she had ran all the way there.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, lingered at the tableside. "Byron and I just barely missed the head of the rainstorm rolling in―" Arin froze, and her eyes met Zelda's. "Sorry I didn't realize we would have guests today. Pleased to meet you…"

"Arin," Lady Hamish said sharply. "A little more dignified, please? That is the Princess of Hyrule!" Arin's jaw dropped.

"Hylia above," Arin laughed, shoving a hand out in front of her. "Well I'll be. Pleased to meet you, Princess, my name is Arin, or Lady Arin as my mother insists―"

"Manners, child," Lady Hamish snapped and then grumbled, "goddesses, one would think you were raised in a barn." Arin grimaced.

"Right, sorry." Curtsying as was proper of a lady of Hyrulean nobility, Arin bowed her head with a kind smile, and said, "it is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Zelda. I am Lady Arin Hamish."

"And it is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Arin," Zelda replied, hiding an amused smirk. Arin reminded her a lot of Purah… loud and dreadfully unaware and unencumbered by social conduct. It was honestly refreshing. "I hope you don't mind that I borrowed one of your lovely gowns… I'm afraid my stay was rather unaccounted for, and I hadn't packed anything more suitable than riding clothes."

"Fine by me, Princess," Arin said, taking her place at the table opposite of the Princess. The poor nearby footman didn't even have the chance to pull the chair back for Arin before she did it herself and plopped down in a most unladylike fashion. He almost seemed insulted that his duty was made obsolete… "I much prefer riding clothes over those old gowns anyways."

Lady Hamish's cold eyes rounded on her daughter, and Arin fell silent.

"We will discuss your behavior another time," Lady Hamish said lowly. "Where is your brother?"

"Byron will be here shortly," she said. "His horse was being rather finicky today. Some yellow coated fox gave the poor beast a fright. Nearly twisted a hoof off prancing around like a clot head. He wanted to make sure the grooms took good care of her."

Zelda peeled her eyes away, cheeks glowing with warm. It seemed she wasn't the only fool to get herself hurt at the hands of that yellow coated beast.

"So, what brings you here, Princess?" Arin asked, leaning against the back of her chair and crossing her arms. One quick flash of her mother's eyes made her sit up straight, however. "Not that I'm ungrateful, it's just we haven't had a royal in our home in years. Not since father… well, never mind."

"Well," Zelda said, swallowing. Goddesses above, she was going to have to tell them how she twisted her ankle like a fool, wasn't she? "I was on my way to Death Mountain, to meet with the Goron Chief, and unfortunately I… hurt my leg. And with the storm that was rolling in, my Appointed Knight suggested we come here for shelter." Zelda sighed with relief. It was the truth, though not the whole truth. She did at least manage to not grow flush with embarrassment.

"Your Appointed Knight?" Arin beamed. "You mean the boy who freed the Sword!? I read in the paper that he was raised to be your protector shortly after saving you from a rogue Guardian. What is he like? Is he here? What's his name―"

"Arin," Lady Hamish nipped sourly. "One question at a time." It was then that Lady Hamish's stern gaze melted away and she smiled as a newcomer entered the room. Young Byron, as Zelda marked him to be, was a rather handsome individual. With broad shoulders lean from training, a strong jaw and an attractive face framed by neatly groomed locks of chestnut colored hair, he was exactly how the Princess imagined the son of a renowned Knight would look.

Vaguely, she recalled the face of the boy's father from the few memories she had… He had been handsome too, in life, though in a sturdier sort of way.

"I apologize for being late, mother," Byron said. His voice was much like his mother's. Soft and silvery, although far deeper and more… _methodical_ almost. He paused at the door when he saw Zelda.

"Byron, may I introduce Princess Zelda," Lady Hamish said coolly. "She will be staying with us for a day or two. She hurt her leg on her way to Death Mountain, you see, and sought shelter here. What better place to stay than Fort Crenel?" Bowing deeply―and considerably more gracefully than his sister―Byron spoke kindly to Zelda.

"We are honored to have you in our home, Princess Zelda. If I had known you would have been here, I would have dressed more appropriately." He picked at his riding tunic, which was spotless, though admittedly casual. "Please forgive me."

"Nonsense," Zelda answered warmly, "I do not fancy myself as such an important guest. Were it not for your generous sister, I would be wearing much the same. It is a pleasure to meet you, young Byron." _Young,_ she thought. He was a bit older than herself. He was likely much closer in age to Link, and ahead in even that.

"Likewise, Princess," Byron said with a dashing smile. "I pray your injury was not too serious?"

"No," she answered. "Just a twisted ankle. I'll be back on my feet in no time, I'm sure."

"I am glad to hear that, but please, do not feel so rushed. We are happy to host such and honored guest in our home." His tone bore the warmth of sincerity.

"Now. Shall we all sit and eat? I am quite hungry after escorting this little one all the way back from Zora's Domain." Byron rubbed a coarse hand over Arin's already messy hair and grinned roguishly as she quickly pushed his hand away, a fierce glare giving way to an amused smile.

"We shall." With a nod to the footman, Lady Hamish announced that they were ready to eat, and in came servants and trays loaded to the brim with steaming and delightful food. The smell alone was enough to make Zelda sigh with relief and her stomach growl with hunger. She could tell already it would rival the food at the castle, perhaps ever surpass it.

However, that relief faded, when Mister Telmar entered, wine bottle in hand, a golden-headed boy at his side.

Link had cleaned up considerably since she had seen him last. His hair had been combed and tied back neater than before, and his bright blue tunic, while still simple in make, had be given a once over and stood out starkly against the dark dining room walls.

She had almost forgot that he _would_ join them.

He was a Knight, after all, it was only customary. Despite his common upbringing, he was of equal rank to Lady Hamish―if only lacking land and renown―it would have been unorthodox to not include him… _Well,_ only a little more unorthodox as it already was.

"Link…" Arin gaped slowly. "What on earth are you doing here?" Byron, while he seemed as equally shocked as his sister, did not say a word… His eyebrows knotted seriously, as if he were trying to piece it all together.

"Mister Telmar," Lady Hamish said coldly, her face slipping back into that expression of impatience. "I believe our dinner party numbers just four. Might I ask why there are five places set?" Mister Telmar froze, wine bottle tucked gently in his arm.

"I thought, my Lady…" He hesitated, mustache twitching violently as he glanced between his master and the boy standing behind him. "With Sir Link's new title… I..."

"You what?" She asked, voice as hard as stone. Her eyes were so blindingly fixated on the elderly butler, and yet Zelda thought she might melt into her chair from their intensity. "You thought I would offer him a place at _my_ table?"

Mister Telmar coughed.

"Forgive me, Lady Hamish," Link suddenly said stoically, bowing deeply. "Blame does not lie on Mister Telmar. It was my suggestion, and my _miscalculation_. I will see myself out, thank you." And with that odd speech over and done with, Link straightened himself, and left, eyes never expressing anything more than what a mountain boulder could.

For a long while, the room was deathly silent under the oppressive tension, and it never quite recovered to what it once was. Byron's smile seemed shadowed and forced… Arin's cheeriness was all but gone… and Lady Hamish…

Zelda was surprised Lady Hamish did not shatter her wine glass holding it so tightly.

"Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way," Lady Hamish said, voice somehow seemingly unaffected by the same anger that had seized her hand. "Shall we talk of more enjoyable things? Tell me Princess, how does your father fare?"

* * *

He shouldn't have to take the blame. Mister Telmar cursed himself for not speaking up sooner. After all, it was his idea, not Links.

Tensions were mounting enough as it was, considering Lady Hamish nearly threw a book at him when he announced Link and the Princess had arrived earlier that day, and now because of his foolish actions, things were bound to get worse.

Combing back his longs mops of thin hair, Mister Telmar took a deep breath to relax his upset nerves.

"Its good to see you, Link, it really is," he said, gripping the boy's shoulder. "But Lady Hamish… her bitterness has not lessened over the years. Please forgive me for thinking otherwise."

"It's alright, Telmar," Link said, meeting his eyes firmly. "If a few harsh words like that would have upset me I would have crumpled up and died long ago. Go on. Don't worry about me."

"I know boy, I know. It's just… It's not fair. You've put in your time, it's not right for you to be treated as such. You're a Hero now, with that Sword on your back. Despite everything, you've pushed through. Pulling that blade free has earned you that respected." Link regarded Mister Telmar with a gaze that seemed just on the brink of somber.

"This blade has earned me nothing, Telmar," he said softly. "It is a weapon to be used like I am a tool to be used against evil. Whether I like it or not, there is nothing more to it." He sighed and clapped the old man on the shoulder. "Besides, where's the sense in having Lady Hamish furious at you? She already despises me, so what's a little more fuel to the fire? Better to burn down one tree than the whole forest."

Mister Telmar smiled sadly. "You haven't changed at all, lad."

* * *

Sorry it took so long to get that one out, work picked up a lot now that we're well into the new year!

I hope you all enjoyed this spicy chapter!

-Bold


	33. Book 2 Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

A Different Perspective

The storms clouds of that earlier morning had long since ceased their downpour, but they still hung overhead, overcasting what would have been a lovely summer day and threatening to rain atop their heads once more. It was a fitting background, Zelda thought, to match her mood. Even after her insistence to be on the road as soon as possible, it seemed neither her Appointed Knight, nor anyone from the Hamish family for that matter, were willing to let her ride out with her ankle still not fully healed. It was too dangerous for a Princess, they said, given the weather and eventual destination.

And so, begrudgingly, Zelda agreed to stay one more day. _Just_ one.

Not that it was all bad, though. Even she had to admit, her foot still felt terribly tender and sensitive, and it would have been an abysmal march up the slopes of Death Mountain. One of the Goron's would have had to carry her up on their backs once the horses became unsuitable for the terrain, or infinitely worse, she would have to hang on Link's back. That thought alone made her grimace.

She very much preferred to keep as much distance between them, for more than one reason.

However, maintaining that detachment didn't mean that Zelda wasn't curious as to what her Appointed Knight was up to outside on such a dreary overcast day. Hair and clothes drenched from rain, it seemed to her that Link was practicing some sort of sword forms out on the wet grass behind the estate, just so coincidentally close enough that she could watch him from the second story window of her guest room.

He seemed at ease swinging that blade of his around, every step and sweep a shining example of confidence and discipline. His stance did not wobble, his blade struck true, and his eyes were trained on the imaginary opponents challenging him. But she supposed it only made sense. After all, it was his only job: swing that very special blade around until he pinned down the coming Beast so that she could annihilate it with some sort of outlandish power she could not possess.

Zelda sighed sadly.

Meanwhile he exercised with purpose in his training, her prayer that morning was admittedly wanting in every regard. She did not don her ceremonial dress, nor was there a pool to submerse herself in with a statuette of Hylia to watch over her. It was merely a futile bedside plea on her knees. As always, she begged for the path of her fate to reveal itself to her, that there would be some sort of sign. Anything. And as always, there came no answer.

Her father would have been livid.

Luckily, that thought fluttered away when a soft knock rapped on her door. Peeling her eyes away from the window, Zelda greeted her guest politely, surprised to find the young lady Arin entering the room wearing a gown her mother was sure to approve of. She was a pretty little thing; bright eyes, soft cheeks, and a warm smile, but somehow Arin seemed out of place wearing a dress instead of riding trousers, and her hair brushed neatly instead of its unkemptness of yesterday.

Zelda envied her free spirit.

"I brought tea, if you're interested," she said, lifting a tray in her hands. "I know I sure do enjoy a warm drink on days like this."

"Yes, please." Shifting over in the window side couch, Zelda made room for the young lady, and gladly accepted the steaming cup handed to her. It smelled faintly of safflina and honey, but its taste remarkably resembled something much stronger. Eldin Berry, perhaps? Either way, she hummed with satisfaction. "You must give my thanks to your staff here. I have never seen such dedicated and efficient servants."

"Yes, we are quite lucky to have them all," Arin said, sitting beside Zelda. "My father and Mister Telmar were always very disciplined in the running of the household… though, Telmar still does an excellent job of keeping this old estate like a well-oiled clock." There was a hint of sadness in her tone, for clear reasons.

"Do you miss him?" Arin paused, and considered her question.

"Of course," she said with a sip of her tea. "As I am sure you understand, having lost your mother many years ago." Zelda nodded solemnly. _That_ she did understand, though now her memory of it had faded a little. She didn't think of her mother very often, she had other things to occupy her mind with, but occasionally Zelda would search her heart and find the faint throb of a long-forgotten sadness.

She often thought of an old adage she had read that spoke of such a feeling. ' _Like any wound_ ,' it said, ' _time heals the heart best, but some wounds leave deep scars; the shadows of old pains made distant, but never truly gone_.' It had been an apt way to describe it, she thought.

For a brief silence, Arin and Zelda sipped on their warm tea and watched the swirling clouds above blow past on a gentle breeze, but the moment didn't last long. "I see he still practices every day," Arin said, looking down at the yard below. "But I suppose it only makes sense, given… well. You know."

"I generally leave him be," Zelda replied, feigning impassivity. "Though this is the first time I've seen him go this late. He's usually up well before dawn and finished before I ever wake."

"He's probably bored," Arin remarked casually. The idea seemed foreign to Zelda. Link, bored. That was a too human emotion. He seemed capable of little more than brooding, with the occasional fits of stubbornness heated by a touch of anger. "He never seemed to like being idle for long when we were younger."

The itching sensation tickled Zelda's curiosity once again.

"Did… do you remember much about Link...?" She asked hesitantly. "When he lived here."

"I remember him well," Arin answered, after a thought. "But I never spent time very much around him. Father always had he and my brother buried to their waists in training and schooling. I swear they spent half of their childhoods black and blue sparring like they were training for war." That seemed likely. Sir Hamish was once her father's war counselor. It only made sense he would train his _sons_ like soldiers.

Zelda wondered just how proficient with a sword Link really was. She had only ever heard stories of his exploits. She had yet to see him in action.

"Link has changed since he left." Now this was interesting!

"How so?" Zelda asked.

"Well," Arin sighed thoughtfully, "how should I explain this. Link has always been quiet, that's for certain―though, Mister Telmar once told me that he was a curious child… apparently, he mellowed out―but now he's quiet in a _different_ way I suppose. Before it was always a solemn silence, like any servant would be properly, but now it's…" Arin rubbed her chin, still trying to puzzle it all together.

"I think I know what you mean," Zelda said. His silence was almost oppressive. It made her skin crawl; the way he would just push questions aside with the sheer intensity of his gaze was unnerving. "But what was he like before? Surely you must know more about him than I?"

"Have you not asked him yourself?" Arin's eyebrow crooked slightly, amusedly. "He's _your_ Knight after all, Princess. Don't tell me you dislike him like Mother."

"You don't agree with your mother?" Zelda asked. It was certainly strange. After their dinner the night before Arin and her brother both seemed heavily perturbed by Link's surprise appearance. They weren't openly hostile like their mother―Hylia above that woman was terrifying when angered―but Arin and Byron were markedly… _concerned_.

Concerned was the best way she could put it. Zelda knew there was more to uncover, something hidden just beneath the surface, and she just _had_ to find out.

"Mother is… blind," Arin said hesitantly, as if the very words would call down her elder's wrath upon her. And before Zelda could even ask what she meant by that, Arin said, "may I ask, how much do you _really_ know of Link's past? What has he told you?"

"Told me?" Zelda repeated, glancing out the window at her Appointed Knight. His sword still swung with surety, slicing through opponent after opponent. "He told me very little. That he was brought here to train as a Ward, that he left after your father's untimely passing, that he came from Hateno, a common man." Zelda breathed cautiously. This was her opportunity to test the waters.

"My father, however…" Zelda said, "Link told him _much_ more."

Arin's eyes flickered with understanding.

"My mother has her reasons for her disdain," Arin said wistfully, setting her tea aside. "I supposed any great lady forced to see the face of another woman's child brought into her husband's home would be aggrieved. But her hatred's roots lie much deeper than that…"

Zelda allowed Arin's words time to breathe before she pressed in. The itching in her head would not go away… that constant questions tickling her mind. _Why? What did Link do?_

"You recall how my father died, yes?" Arin asked, eyes downcast as if she were nervous.

"I do. A freak accident in Zora's Domain. I _am_ sorry." Zelda's words did not seem to bring much comfort to the young woman, but it felt right to offer them. Arin wouldn't look at her now.

"Yes," she sighed somberly. "It was an accident. Nothing more than a terrible accident… but Link…" She swallowed and then rushed to her feet. "It is not my place to share," she said hurriedly. "But if what happened that day was anyone's fault, it was mine alone."

"What do you mean, Arin?" Zelda asked entreatingly. "I don't understand."

"I'm sorry Princess," the young lady answered, rubbing away a sudden wetness in her eyes away. "I have said too much already. Mother would be furious. If you really must know, then you will have to ask Sir Link. Or perhaps Byron would have the courage to tell you… though I fear he sees things much like mother."

And with that, Arin was closed lipped about the whole ordeal, and no amount of poking and open ended questions seemed to bring her out.

' _If what happened that day was anyone's fault, it was mine alone.'_ That sentence kept repeating in Zelda's head. What could have happened? Sir Hamish wasn't pushed in, was he? After a thought, Zelda shook her head. That seemed unreasonable. Arin wouldn't have claimed guilt for such a thing, and it was an accident after all… and that was that.

And so, for the rest of that overcast summer noon, Arin asked endless questions about all sorts of things, while narrowly avoiding the topic of their previous discussion. Zelda found Arin to be quite the knowledge hungry individual; her eyes grew wider and wider as she described in detail how the Divine Beasts were controlled by their pilots, and before long they were back to smiling and laughing.

Despite the circumstances, Zelda had found some enjoyment in the Hamish estate.

* * *

Byron hated to admit it, but his pride had been unequivocally hurt. Arrogance was a fool's downfall, his father once told him―he knew he was an utter fool―and yet he could not shake that grim feeling gripping his heart like an iron fist. Anger. Though it was through no overt failure of his own, he had been incapable of doing the one thing his half-brother could.

Free the Master Sword.

He of course had been among the first ranks to give their hand at freeing it, but he, like every other Knight in Hyrule, was found wanting by the goddess Hylia. Through the years of training and toiling under the strict guidance of his father, Sir Hamish, the Sword found his illegitimate half-brother worthy, but not him. He was not worthy to serve his kingdom in the greatest way possible.

Byron cursed his infuriation. A fool's anger, he told himself.

But that anger paled in comparison to the other pain gripping his heart. It was not an obvious pain… little more than a dull throb that surged with every beat of his heart just beneath the surface, but unlike his anger that waxed and waned as his mind drifted in thought, he had never truly forgotten the pain of losing his father.

And now seeing _his_ face―a face so similar to his own father―had stirred and churned that hurt anew.

He wanted to cry from the pain, but he did not allow a single drop to fall. That he would not allow himself to do. His father despised tears. He called them signs of weakness. They were dangerous. Compromising. _Everything was a compromise in his eyes,_ Byron thought sorrowfully.

And so, blinking away the wetness in his eyes, he picked up a practice sword in his hand, and careful measured his balance between his fingers.

Link had grown so much in his time away. He hardly resembled that little boy he once called his sparring partner. His face had grown lean and serious, his muscles hard and unwavering, but most of all his eyes…

His eyes had seen things that changed them.

Perhaps there was no good way to describe it, but he no longer wore the eyes of a bright-minded Ward Protector. He now wore the eyes of a warrior, always set on the edge of battle. Like a wolf preparing to pounce.

Byron wondered if that's why the Master Sword chose him.

"What do you say, Sir Link," Byron said, holding out his practice sword in front of him. "Shall we relive old times?" His challenge was met by a firm silence, and a curt nod. Hardly a far cry from cold words, but he could not blame the man. After the way Mother had treated him the night before―his whole life really―it was no surprise.

Besides, he was hardly polite himself.

"How has life treated you?" Byron asked, trying to be cordial, handing over a second training sword to his half-brother.

"I cannot complain," Link replied, accepting the blade, and sheathing his own. What Byron would have given to hold that beautiful steel in his own fingers. Even in the overcast sky, that white blade shone like a mirror, and its hilt was smooth like polished brass. It was nothing short of divine… an object worthy to be envious of.

"You have no complaints, or do you chose to not voice them?" Byron replied, but Link's firm gaze was all the answer he needed. Just like Father had taught them.

In a way, his half-brother's response was gratifying, though he could not point a finger as to why. Perhaps he was just glad to see that their father's lessons had continued to live on through them both, or maybe it was because he alone could understand that underneath the mask Link wore, there hid the mere spirit of a boy… an afraid, imperfect boy.

And he only knew because the same spirit lay within himself.

"Well. Shall we begin, brother?" His question was met with a bow, just like old times. And thus, began their dance.

It was a simple dance really, sword fights rarely lasted for more than mere seconds―those performance theaters had it all wrong―but every blow Byron struck was met by an immovable wall of steel. Link hadn't changed a bit.

Not that it had always been so. When they were mere boys, he could shove Link around the ring, bully him into a corner until his strokes fell flat, but once they had both hit their growth spurts, he had found the battlefield leveled with unprecedented speed. And ever since then, that which once gave way under his blade, became as hard as rock.

That said, however, the fight still didn't last long.

It was a quick maneuver of his wrist that made an opening for Byron to strike Link's side, and as the blunt of his blade struck skin, he sucked in air through his teeth, but did not yelp.

They bowed and began again. And this time, Byron fell to his brother's blade, and with impressive speed too. A quick shuffle of the feet and a smart switch of the grip earned him a strapping on the ribcage. Link had not forgotten all of his little weak spots and short comings. That was good. Father wouldn't have approved otherwise.

Again and again they fought, and yet for every blow Byron landed, that anger and pain he felt suffocating his heart did not abate, and his swings grew harder and more desperate.

Surely, he thought, this was how he could at last let those feelings go. They had weighed him down for so long, he yearned to be rid of them, and yet… Link met him stroke for stroke and swing for swing, until their blades were dropped, and they resorted to their fists.

Mud caked their clothes as they tumbled in the yard behind their estate, neither side giving way to the other completely, but Byron hardly cared anymore. It was the rush of the fight, the surge of pain as each of his knuckles met skin, and his own skin met with retaliation. It felt like the only way to let go, and yet it wasn't working.

When their fighting had ceased and they both heaved deep breathes, Byron finally asked the question that had burned a hole in his mind for nearly five years.

"Why? Why did Father do it?" He did not have to specify. Link knew exactly what he meant.

"I ask myself that same question," Link replied, wiping mud and sweat off his stone-cold face, struggling to draw each breath. "And yet I have never found an answer."

"It can't be," Byron barked as he fought back every scornful tear that welled in his eyes. "Surely you know why?"

"I'm sorry, Byron," he said. "If I could have taken his place I would have."

"You should have never been there in the first place. You knew better than to let Arin pressure you so. It was you're responsibility."

"You're right," Link answered. "I shouldn't have. But it can't be changed now, and now we must live with it."

"And you're okay with that?" he retorted, furiously wiping away the damned tear that rolled down his cheek. "You're okay with the way Mother treats you? The way your name is whispered like a curse in these corridors, a stain on our past?"

"Of course not," Link answered. "But how I feel doesn't matter. It never did."

Byron cursed himself. How could Link act so calm… so stony and resolved, while he merely cried like a child? It made him sick to his stomach, and the grip around his heart only tightened.

"I can't forgive you, Link," Byron lamented, collapsing to his knees. "Though I've tried and tried to make myself see reason, I can't let go. I just can't. Father would have called me an utter fool for being so distraught and destroyed by my emotions, but I cannot master them."

The words stung on his tongue like venom. He couldn't even make himself look Link in the eyes anymore. _Five years,_ he thought bitterly. _Five years and yet I cannot move on._

Byron grimaced when a hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"I understand," Link said, for once his voice giving way to something only a little softer than steel. "I can't forgive myself either. I never could." He sighed. "Don't hold that anger back anymore, brother. It is my burden to handle now."

By the time Byron could make himself look up from his sunken state, Link was already long gone. And as he looked skyward, his tears mixed with rain that began to fall from the heavens. Byron wanted to believe it was the rain alone that ran down his cheeks, but deep down he knew better.

* * *

Sorry if this chapter got a little too edgy for you all!

-Bold


	34. Book 2 Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Off to Death Mountain

At last the sun had broken through the clouds, and with a sigh of relief, Zelda took in the clean summer air as she stuck her head out the window, feeling remarkably better than she had the day before. Her ankle was still a little sore, that was certain, but she was confident that with a little stretching and moving around, it would be right as rain in no time.

And so, as soon as she could get dressed and out the door of her bedroom, Zelda marched right to the Hamish's dining room for breakfast, eager to have her fill and get back out on the open road where she felt free. Lady Hamish seemed admittedly surprised that she was so eager to mount up, but with a few kind words and a whole host of thanks, the lady of the hill gave her blessing and sent the grooms to saddle the horses.

However, Lady Hamish did have one last surprise for her.

"The road to Death Mountain is a dangerous one," she said, that pretty mouth of hers affixed in a sort of half-smile half-frown. "I fear for your safety Princess. Now, I have sent for Byron's horse to be saddled as well, he will be riding with you to ensure you are met by the Gorons safely."

"Lady Hamish," Zelda reassured her, "I have traveled far across our Kingdom. I am quite certain it is safe. Besides, I would hate to encroach on Byron's personal time. Your family has been so very hospitable, I would not want to be a burden." Her argument did not stand for long, however, not if Lady Hamish had anything to say about it. Goddesses above, that woman had a way with saying such simple things in a terrifying manner.

Luckily, Byron was the first to answer, and as always, his tone was warm and genuine.

"It would be both my pleasure and honor to escort you up the mountain, Princess." It was odd, Zelda noted distantly in her mind. Byron had such a serious demeanor―in fact, when he was soundless, he bore a striking resemblance to Link in all but looks―but his expressions seemed to spark to life the moment he opened his mouth… and his smile was rather handsome…

Zelda didn't know why the thought occurred to her, but it made her wonder what Link would have looked like with a smile. He always wore such a solemn and glum expression―she had never seen even the hint of anything resembling a smile from him―for reasons Zelda had yet to determine…

 _Well_ , it was his choice to be that way not hers. She didn't want to know anyways… At least, she told herself she didn't want to know.

"Besides," Byron continued. "I do enjoy travelling. We can make a good time of it." Zelda thought on his request for a moment. On one hand, she truly did feel like a nuisance taking up his time, but on the other he did seem quite insistent on the matter… if not hesitantly hopeful.

 _Perhaps I should say yes,_ she thought. _Why not?_ After all, she wouldn't mind having _real_ company with her on the long trip. Link was likely the least sociable person she had ever met, and it wasn't going to change anytime soon.

"I would value your company," Zelda answered kindly, "but only if you promise I am not being a burden. I have made it this far safely, I am sure I would be fine all the same."

"Safely?" Lady Hamish mused, as if it were a twisted joke. But her smile thinned, and she leaned in a little and said lowly, "forgive me, Princess. Far be it from me to speak against your father's judgment, but I would not trust that _boy_ to care for even a flower. He'd likely crush it underfoot acting a fool. Chosen or not."

Almost on instinct Zelda thought to press for meaning, but she reconsidered the situation…

"After all," Lady Hamish continued, almost whispering in her ear by then. "You arrived to us harmed worn down to the bone under _his_ watch. I simply do not trust him, dear Princess. Let my son be your guide." Zelda's face grew warm. It wasn't like it was _his_ fault she tripped like a bumpkin…

But her sentiment did have merit.

If Lady Hamish―and quite possibly Byron―saw what happened to Sir Hamish all those years ago as Link's fault, then could he be trusted at all? The question made her shiver even in the heat of summer.

But what of Arin's opinion? There were two sides to this story, and neither party seemed very willing to share what they knew. Despite her subtle questions and musings after that morning in her bedroom, Arin avoided the topic all together as if it were her greatest shame…

So how would she ever find out? How could she maneuver herself to find the truth? It all seemed like a _grand_ game of chess. And she never was very good a chess.

Perhaps there was still time, however, to learn something from Byron. She had yet to have a very personal conversation with him; his mother seemed to occupy much of his time, so she hadn't spoken with him alone…

The idea was promising.

Zelda glanced at Byron when his mother finally turned away, and for some odd reason his eyes seemed… downcast. Disheartened even. It must have been memories of his father haunting him, she supposed. Understandably so.

Link's surprise visitation had certainly given the whole family a run for their money.

"May I join as well?" Zelda hadn't heard Arin approach―she was a swift and quiet as a Keaton―but today she wore her usual riding coat and trousers, with her long beautiful hair tied in a loose braid instead of that simple gown of yesterday. "I've always wanted to go to Death Mountain!"

"And I have expressly said that you may not until you improve in your studies." Lady Hamish, though she had a tempered tone, wore a face of sternness that reminded Zelda of her old governess. "Hylia above knows it's a wonder at all that I allow you to visit the Domain every summer. Its all for naught I tell you."

Arin deflated at her mother's words but made no further argument. Clearly, they had been around that bend more than a handful of times.

And so, for the better part of that morning, preparations were made for their departure, and as the sun hung in the early noon sky, Zelda and her two escorts set out from the estate grounds. Lady Hamish poured lavish goodbyes over her son and the Princess, though she spared not even a glance to Link... Not that he seemed to care. His face was, as always, unmoving as stone.

Zelda was a little downtrodden to say goodbye to Arin so soon, however. In a way she had found a kindred spirit in the girl, Arin had a same hunger for the world outside, and the vivacity to explore it. Zelda promised the young woman to visit again someday, and perhaps even to travel together, if the whole business with saving the world panned out well.

It was a morbid thought, but a necessary one.

Luckily, for now, she was back out on the road at last, only two days behind schedule, and the sun seemed set to shine down on them warmly. This was where she belonged, she though with a deep breath. She belonged where the rivers ran cold, and the trees swayed in the wind, all the little critters of the forests and plains scattering about, carrying out their daily chores.

If only she could find that Keaton again…

"You are much like Arin." Byron had taken to riding beside her, handling his horse with masterful ease. It hadn't taken Link long at all to leave his half-brother to watching over her while he scouted the road ahead, but she did not miss _his_ company. Link vanished among the trees like a hunter stalking its game, and only every so often would he cross paths with them again in his search for danger. And she was content with that.

But did he ever relax, she wondered? He was like a spring always wound tight, ready to be sprung at a moment's notice. Surely it was exhausting?

"Walls and windows don't suit you, Princess," the young man continued, a smile curling his lip. "Arin is much the same. She gets… antsy if she stays inside too long. There's always something she wants to explore."

"Yes, she said as much," Zelda replied. "She told that you take her to Zora's Domain every summer, yes?"

"I do," he answered. "She's become fast friends with Princess Mipha and fallen in love with the Zoranic countryside. I must admit, there's nothing quite like the blue mountains of the Domain. I'm surprised she hasn't sprouted fins and gills by now, seeing how much time she spends in the water there."

Byron paused, and then chuckled a little. "Don't tell Mother that though. She'd skin Arin alive if she found out she goes swimming every summer." The light mood only lasted for a moment, however. For as quick as it had come, a thought seemed to come to Byron's mind, and his face grew serious as he said, "she's forbidden it ever since _then_. _"_

"I understand," Zelda said, hoping to soothe the mood of the conversation. "I can't say that I enjoy the water very much either. The prayer pools I spend every morning in are like ice baths in the winter. I shiver like a fool, I'm afraid." Byron smiled.

"You are surely not a fool, Princess. If anything, I admire your discipline. Your short time at our home has proven that. Mother sings praises of your stalwartness. You will do well for this Kingdom when it comes time for you to take the throne, mark my words." It was a kind sentiment, but Zelda couldn't quite take the compliment wholly. It never was _'when'_ she took the throne. It was _'if'_ she took the throne.

"You are too kind," she said, when a loud crackling among the trees caught her attention… It was Link, marching across their path atop his horse, eyes as trained on the environment as they always were.

"Has he always been that serious?" Zelda asked quietly. Byron made a peculiarly firm face… "My research colleague and I have made jokes before that he acts more like the mindless ancient Sheikah relics than any Hylian. I just wonder if he was always that way." She had planned this question since that morning, in hopes of cross referencing his answer with Arin's.

"Time changes us all, Princess," Byron replied cryptically, his expression remarkably as stony as Link's could ever be, but not quite as emotionless. "It's hard to remember in detail any more. I suppose in a way he hasn't changed at all, and yet in other ways…" He trailed off, as if he failed to grasp the right words to say.

"May I ask something?" Zelda swallowed hesitantly when Byron glanced her way. Link was well out of hearing distance now. "And I understand if it is too personal… but what do you think of Sir Link?"

A long eerie silence separated them, and for a moment Zelda resigned to never getting an answer to that question, but…

"You're wondering if I hate him like Mother?" he said lowly, eyes kept carefully elsewhere. "The answer is no… but I would be a liar if I said I approve of him." _Approve of him…_ that was a very _particular_ way to put it.

"There are things he has done that I cannot bring myself to forgive," he continued, eyebrows furrowing deeply, "but that does not mean he is a bad person―considering the Master Sword chose him."

The young man sighed deeply, as if to gather himself, and sat straighter in his saddle, saying, "but I must learn to put aside my own aggrievances, Princess. After all, you two are the last shield between the Kingdom and certain doom, I must put my full support in both of you. Duty always comes first. I am sure you understand."

"Of course," Zelda replied somberly. Byron's words had struck a soft spot in her core… _Duty always comes first._ She had heard her father mutter those words time and time again till they grew sour in her mind. But Byron was right. Perhaps there were things she could not bring herself to forgive, but that didn't mean it could come before the responsibilities she bore. She would just have to live with it.

* * *

Link's side ached from where Byron's practice sword had struck bluntly, but he tried his best to ignore it. A little bruise that size wasn't going to get in his way, especially not now that he had a camp to keep watch over. But it certainly didn't make something as simple as breathing very comfortable.

Not that comfort mattered much, there was a job to do.

Under the looming shadow of Death Mountain, Link felt small and vulnerable, an easy target just waiting at the base of a dangerous environment. Anything or anyone could be waiting just around the corner. It had been a long while since he hadn't felt on edge. A far cry from the ease and safety of the gentle pastures and rocky hills of Hateno.

Goddesses, he missed that little village.

After dropping another log on the fire, Link sat back down on his chosen boulder well above the crag they had encamped in and swept a careful eye over the camp. Zelda had already fallen fast asleep in her tent by the time the moon hung overhead, which was good. She was going to need all the strength she could gather before they ditched the horses to climb the mountain on foot… especially with her ankle still recovering.

 _Fool girl._

Frustration flared up in his head, but he stamped it out before it impeded his focus… he had to keep a meticulous watch in a place like this, there was neither time or space for such emotions. Not out there in the wilderness.

"You never were much of a socializer." With his saddle tucked under his feet and his back resting against the side of a large rock, Byron seemed at ease by the fire, but Link knew his half-brother's blade lay at his side, ready to fly out at the first sign of a threat. He was well aware the dangers of the mountains at night… Bokoblins had been spawning like rabbits lately.

Link spared an eye for his half-brother's comment, but little else.

"Do you know why the Princess dislikes you so?" Byron's question seemed to come from a place of honest curiosity, but Link wasn't inclined to answer. Even if he wanted to, he didn't really know the answer fully himself anyways. Not the root cause of it at least.

And so, the best answer he could give was a shrug of the shoulders. Byron simply nodded.

"Well, I suggested you figure out why. We need you two to work together. For the sake of Hyrule's future." Link curled his fingers into a tight fist. Of course he knew that! It wasn't like he was intentionally trying to infuriate the Princess, but she was just so… so… difficult! So irritatingly…

Link sighed, letting that persistent frustration slip away through his fingertips.

Sir Hamish would have called him a fool thinking like that. An utter, hopeless fool. It was his duty to keep a level head, and yet he continued to let the Princess pester him like a pebble in his boot. He continued to let her temperamental words worm their way into his mind until he wanted to scream from the frustration of it all.

Luckily, he hadn't snapped yet.

Opening up to a blank page in his diary, Link began to write a short entry, briefly recording the hotheaded words that threatened to pour out from his mouth.

' _Today'_ he wrote, _'we set out for Death Mountain once more, and Lady Hamish sent Byron alongside us. Not doubt she thought to keep a leash on the family runt in case it decided to act up._ _Byron still harbors anger towards me, but it seems he is learning to master his emotion. I cannot blame him for struggling. Hylia knows I have failed miserably in that regard.'_

' _The Princess as always, is stubborn in her ways. I made sure to keep clear of her vision as much as possible. I knew I could trust Byron to keep an eye on her for me. I must admit it felt liberating to be free of the insufferable woman for a time, and I'm sure she felt the same way._ _I can only hope Daruk will be the saving grace he always is tomorrow. I fear I will send the Princess over the edge once and for all if she's forced to suffer me any longer.'_

 _If only I could find out what I did to upset her so… Perhaps Urbosa could help me understand someday. Maybe.'_

And with that, he closed the diary and tucked it back into his bag. Link considered very briefly just throwing it into the fire―the damned thing was an incriminating document just waiting for someone to find and read it―but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

It was a gift from Mipha… He just couldn't.

And so, keeping it hidden was the best thing he could do for now. Perhaps he would just mark out every word when he got back to the castle… If anyone ever read the words he laid out in that book… Well… The frail façade of 'Hero' he worked so hard to maintain would shatter in an instant.

It was a mistake he could not afford to make.


	35. Book 2 Chapter 17

Note: Make sure to check out Memory #4 Daruk's Mettle before reading this prelude!

* * *

-Prelude VIII-

Daruk was glad to have his honorary brother by his side. The little guy sure did know how to handle himself on such rugged terrain like Death Mountain―he had no problem keeping up on two little feet―but he had to admit that all this walking around up and down the rugged terrain all day had his stomach growling louder than a cave Dodongo.

Nasty things, those Dodongos were. Worse than Lizalfos, no questions asked.

But, the Princess had important business to attend to, doing a proper check up on his ole' Radunia, making sure he was battle ready, and he wasn't going to impede in that. Daruk would make sure if Ganon every showed that pig face of his around these parts, he was going to give a Goron sized punch for sure!

Whenever he could figure out how to pilot his Divine Beast, that is…

"I don't know about this, little guy," he said hesitantly, staring up at the vast inner chamber of Rudania with a nervous finger scratching his beard. "I just don't see how just wondering around this place will help me learn how to control this beast, but… if you think it will work, I'll give it a try."

Like always, Link just nodded.

A funny guy, ole' Link was. Quiet to a fault, and a bit on the solemn side, but he sure did know just the right thing to say when it needed saying. _'Daruk'_ Link told him, _'you'll never know if you never try. Now get in there.'_ Daruk was admittedly surprised by how easily Link had pushed him into Rudania using only his own two hands. Little guy sure was strong, despite his Hylian size.

And so, for what seemed like at least an hour, Daruk explored the inner belly of his Divine Beast, every now and then poking a finger at little points of interest. There were all sorts of sights and sounds in Rudania, from weird beeps and drones, to flashing lights and glowing torches. The whole beast seemed to be made up of some sort of stone, though Daruk didn't think it would taste very good if he sunk his teeth into it. Not that he was going to try… probably…

One lick confirmed his suspicion. It was gross. Not suited for eating at all.

But the experiment did have a little merit to it. If Rudania was made of stone, then he should have felt right at home piloting the gigantic beast. Of all the things Gorons cloud understood better than anyone else, stones, rocks, and boulders were their specialties. Where any Hylian might see just a plain rock, a Goron could discern where it came from, how its taste would differ from the other, how old it was, and more.

And Rudania wasn't going to be any different.

Keeping that in mind, Daruk imagined himself standing on the slopes of Death Mountain, the feeling of soft volcanic soil between his wiggling toes, and the hot burning in his nose, the smell of molten lava and sulfur pools tickling his nose. Yes… Rudania was a part of the mountain now. No, Rudania _WAS_ the mountain.

"Alright, Rudania," he shouted to the beast, reveling in the way his booming voice echoed across the open chasm of the Beast. "Show me what you got!"

Letting his mind wander, Daruk imagined Rudania's arms and legs were his own, and through them he felt the soft soil of the volcano, he felt the hot air rushing in and out of his lungs, he felt the rocks, he felt the boulders, he felt the very mountain beneath him quaking with activity; life in the making.

And wonders among wonders, Rudania began to move!

With a deep Goronic roar, Daruk's Divine Beast surged to life, and their limbs moved as one. One step, two steps, three steps… Yes! It was just like walking on his own two feet! Daruk couldn't help but laugh hysterically.

So this was what bird boy was describing, huh? The feeling of 'oneness.' Daruk liked it!

"What do you say, little guy?" he asked, smiling ear to ear. "Shall we take ole' Rudania for a spin." Link's nod was all the approval he needed.

Peak after peak they climbed, and with every step Daruk felt the bond between Goron and machine strengthen. He just couldn't wait to give that little piglet Ganon a whooping of a lifetime!

* * *

" _I tell you what! Sure is fun piloting a toy like this around…"_

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

A Party Fitting of Gorons

Zelda had to admit, the Gorons sure knew how to throw a party. It was not like any feast she had ever been to―there was hardly anything that could be called civilized about it―but it was a pleasant change from the usual prim and proper _soirees_ of Hyrulean nobility.

Where those gatherings were dictated by class and standing, every Goron was equal under the eyes of Death Mountain. From the young and the old, to the foolish heart-hardened miner and the wise old geezers. All were gathered to sit and eat together, and to share in what was probably the strongest, most vile tasting liquor she had ever drank.

'Old Mountain Fire,' they called it, and true to its name it burnt her throat like she had just swallowed a flame. One sip alone was enough to make her head feel swirly; it was hardly suitable for Hylians to drink, much less so in excess. Daruk thought it particularly hilarious when she began to sputter and cough just smelling it, but he smiled and nodded understandingly when she declined having anything more than a sip.

Thank Hylia.

And so, with a good meal on her stomach―thanks to a merchant train that passed through offering suitable _Hylian food―_ Zelda watched the festivities unravel from afar, content and amused as loud Goronic trumpets and drums came together to create lively music fitting of a party.

Yes, this was far better than any old Hylian gathering in the castle.

Also unlike the gatherings in the castle, the Gorons found a good bit of fun in performing feats of strengths in the forms of games and competitions, chief among them being of course the boulder throwing contest. Daruk had his fair share of fun lobbing rocks around like a lighthearted fool, laughing and cheering in revelry as the boulder bounced down the mountain and made a large splash in a pool of lava below, declaring him the winner.

Not that there were any sore losers. Daruk's competition cheered just as loudly as any other.

There was also rock climbing, rock smashing, rock lifting, rock… well, just about every single activity the Gorons partook in involved rocks. They were unequivocally fanatical about them, including tasting. That fact alone they made sure to hammer into her head. Not that Zelda minded. She was just glad to be among company that found such passion and joy in the simplicity of life itself.

There was no politics to be had here, just good times and warm smiles.

Fanning her face, Zelda had to wipe sweat away from her forehead just watching all the activity, but she did so smiling. The heat resistant elixirs that had been prepared for them could only do so much to cut down on the scorching temperatures. But, in all honesty, she was happier there sweating like thief in a courthouse than being trapped in the walls of Hyrule Castle.

It didn't help that the alcohol she drank seemed to being working its godsforsaken magic with shocking efficiency.

"So, tiny Princess," Daruk said as he scratched his full belly and plopped down beside her, a beaming smile splitting his face. "What do you think about ole' Rudania, eh? Sure looks like a mighty beast standing up there on the mountain."

Looking skyward, Zelda remarked the truth to that statement. Rudania loomed over them with a benevolent gaze, a silent guardian set to watch over its land and all its little people; a sworn protector. The idea brought her a warm sense of hope.

"He is quite magnificent, Daruk," Zelda replied, giving the massive Goron a pinch on the arm teasingly. "Though he is not quite so magnificent as you are. You've taken to piloting him extraordinarily well, I could not be more impressed." Laughing awkwardly, Daruk smiled and scratched his beard.

"Ah―thanks Princess," he beamed. "I'm just glad I can finally show that bird boy how to really pilot a Divine Beast." Daruk's head reeled back in a deep belly laugh. "He's got feathers puffed up in all the wrong places, but I like the silly cucco. He's passionate and determined, and that's all that matters to me, Princess." Smiling, Zelda nodded in agreement.

"Yes, Revali can be quite… self-centered. But he has shown his worth to me and being a little competitive has certainly driven him to heights not reached before. I could not have asked for better pilots, nor better champions. Between you two we have enough strength and agility to make any army tremble." Daruk's bashful smile grew wider.

"You know, Princess," he said with a chuckle, "I think you should have a sip of Ole' Mountain Fire more often."

"Oh?" The Goron laughed again.

"You're much nicer when your drunk," he blurted out.

"I am not drunk," she retorted, stifling a bubbly laugh. "I've only had one sip!"

"Well, but you're also tiny." He patted her head with a gigantic hand just to prove it. "Goron liquor is a hundredfold stronger than Hylian liquor. All it takes is a little sip, and a little time to warm the tummy, and you'll feel the fervor of Death Mountain in no time. Why, even the little guy can't handle more than two sips!"

Grimacing slightly, Zelda asked, "Link?"

Daruk's grin grew into a mischievous smirk. "Yeah. Haven't you seen him?" Pointing off far into the crowds of rowdy Goron's, Daruk directed her eyes to a peculiar sight. Now that she thought about it, Zelda had never seen Link asleep… when they were out on the road he kept watch long after she closed her eyes, and yet he was always up first to wake her.

She attributed it to another one of his _faultless_ abilities. Of course he was too _perfect_ for anything as normal as sleep.

However, now… Well, he was comptetly―utterly―passed out. With a mouth opening and closing with each loud snore, body slouched against a stack of barrels and head sagged limply, Link was a fast asleep as a baby in its crib, even as the Goron's surrounding him laughed and cheered like drunkards at a horserace.

Zelda couldn't believe her eyes! Link! The Hero of Hyrule, her insufferable Appointed Knight!

"Lini was right," she half sighed, half laughed. "Seems that the Hero chosen by the Sword is just as prone to be a drunkard as any soldier in the Hyrulean army."

"Well, actually," Daruk coughed, scratching his beard. "He didn't _really_ want to drink, but I insisted. He only agreed when I told him I'd give him a sip of our lighter liquors and… Well… I may have given him the complete opposite." Zelda turned on Daruk bewilderedly.

"I just wanted to help him ease up," the Goron protested, hiding a smirk with his meaty hand. "He seemed so… tense when he got here. Did something happen to him since last time I saw him?" Zelda sighed. How was she to know? He hadn't changed at all since day one. He was just as cold and stony as the first time he met her.

Well, there was of course the whole mess at the Hamish Estate, but that wasn't her place to comment on. Not yet at least, she still needed to puzzle it all out herself.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to ask him," Zelda said―perhaps with a touch of firmness―standing to her feet. A wave of dizziness made her first few steps wobbly. It appeared the Ole' Mountain Fire was only growing stronger in her stomach. "He's never told me anything, so good luck."

"Where are you going?" Daruk asked.

"To wake my Knight," she answered. "He's making a fool of himself looking like that." For once! This was the first crack in that armor of his, the first separation in the façade of perfection he had masterfully woven. And she was going to be there to widen that hole!

Or at least she hoped.

The partying Goron's were a little too distracted with themselves to pay her very little mind, but when she would lightly tap on the arm or shoulder, they would smile politely and let her slip by with a quick 'sorry little princess,' or 'excuse me little princess.' And in kind, she would thank them, and press on, only stumbling like a fool once or twice as the potency of the Goronic liquor churned in her stomach.

One sip was all it took! Were she not so irritated, that fact alone would have amazed her! To think it could be so strong it could―

"Sir Link," she huffed, but he did not stir. She tried calling his name again, but there was only a slight change in his breathing.

"Sir Link, wake up." Kicking the sole of his boot, Zelda finally managed to wake him from his stupor, and to her shocked surprise, he leapt up from his resting place, knife swiftly pulled from his belt sheath and was poised to cut anyone down.

It took him a few moments to realize what had happened, and with a solemn gaze cast downwards, he sheathed his blade. His face could hardly be marked as anything like shame, but his irritation was evident in the glower of his eyebrows and downturned frown.

"You are making a poor show of yourself, _Hero._ " She made sure the name steeped in her tone of voice sourly. "My father would be most displeased if he learned you spent the night in a drunken stupor instead of doing your job while we are away from the safety of Hyrule Castle."

Yes, that was sure to sting his pride!

"My apologies, Princess," he said, stabilizing himself against a teetering barrel. "It won't happen―" He never finished the last part when the barrel he was leaning against suddenly fell over, and he lost his balance in a comical display of splayed limbs and tumbling footwork.

Any nearby Goron that saw it broke into a loud cheery laughter at the sight, though they were quick to offer him a hand up and a clap of the back. There truly wasn't an indecent bone among the mountain race. "He's had a good taste of the Mountain, eh Brothers?" they laughed. "Free cheers for the honorary Brother!"

And on it went, though Zelda was satisfied to find Link staring at the ground miserably. It clearly did not share the same sentiment. _As it should be,_ she thought. And perhaps it was childish to find amusement from seeing her Appointed Knight make a fool of himself―she wanted to blame it on her dizziness―but after all that had passed between them…

Well. It was about time he was brought down a peg or two.

* * *

Welp! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out! I had midterms this week, and well... you know how that goes. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I know its a little shorter than the last few, but it was a little more lighthearted than the other ones I feel like, so kudos for that! I had a couple other ideas for this chapter, but after writing them out in my head I decided against it because it felt a little out of place for this story.

So long story short, school sucks, I can't figure out what I want, and my writing suffers because of it haha!

As always, please let me know what yall think!

-Bold


	36. Book 2 Chapter 18

-Prelude IX-

There was no doubt about it. Misko was just plain out of luck.

Ever since he began his little ' _venture'_ with his fellow merchants, the world seemed dead set on turning every opportunity just within his grasp to ash. From Kakariko to Rito Village, there wasn't a day that the sun didn't beat down on their backs till their skin burned bright red, or the storms rolling in to wash them out till their carts sank in the mud and soaked their wares till they were unfit for selling or rendered useless beyond repair. There was the heat, the cold, the wind, the rain and even snow―in the tundra up north, that is―and it was all bent on one purpose:

Make poor old Misko fail.

At least, that's how he saw it. _I should have stayed in Termina,_ he thought bitterly. _At least there I could sell my masks._ But alas, no one in Hyrule seemed very keen on buying such colorful adornments. Not even his Keaton mask could catch the attention of any well-off children. They were too busy swing around pretend swords like that supposed _'Hero'_ everyone kept talking about. Ungrateful little buggers, he thought.

And well, if he couldn't sell his cute little Keaton mask, then there was no way on the good green earth he was going to sell his other masks. His Gibdo, Stone, and Giant's mask were all too _scary_ to sell to anyone, and the Sheikah didn't take to kindly to him trying to sell a replica of the fabled Mask of Truth.

Apparently, it wasn't very polite.

 _Bah!_ Yes, the world was certainly just down on him today. It was like he had to carry the moon on his shoulders every step of the way.

But, on that particularly wet late summer day, a flicker of hope seemed to shine down upon him. It just so happened that while he was on the road between the old Hyrule Ranch and Mabe Village, that he met a wonderfully― _fortuitously_ ―familiar face.

"My, my, my," Misk laughed, throwing his hands up in the air, greeting his familiar acquaintance with gusto. "If it isn't the heroic bowman of Hateno! Fortune seems to smile upon me today, I've not seen a familiar face in many months. Spare an old friend an ear?"

The young man, whose hair was as golden as the day he saved him from that nasty horde of Bokoblins near Kakariko village those short few years ago, was tied back neatly like a sharp soldier on inspection day. His tunic, which was as vibrant as the blue sky above, marked him as a man of worth now―not to mention the ornamental sword resting on his back. And atop his horse striding alongside a fair young lady, it was obvious the world had done the young lad many favors.

And where there was favor, there was money, no doubt.

Though Misko was admittedly a little hurt when the young lad did not seem to remember him. "Misko, my name is, good sir," he said, bowing showily, his signature grin reaching ear to ear. "I am saddened to see you do not recall my name. You once saved me and my caravan from a horde of Bokoblins, perhaps four years ago? Yes?"

The young man's eyes flickered with remembrance, and he nodded. _Still a quiet one, this guy._

"Yes, very good. You do remember! And my, my, and please forgive my manners. Who is this fine lady riding at your side, young lad?" It was true the young beauty of silky golden hair could have matched any royal for grace and loveliness. He was sure she had money too… Perhaps she was some noble; a knight's daughter. "I see Hylia has seen you rise up in the world with your fine clothes and pretty ladies."

"Careful with your tongue towards the Lady," the bowman― _well, swordsman now_ ―said in a tone that was not rude, but cusping firmness. Misko was wise enough to take the hint. So, she was certainly a high-born lady. That was good.

"Ah, please forgive me," Misko said, his grin never faltering. "I meant no offense, but I do speak from the truth of my heart, kind Lady." He cleared his throat. "Say, kind Lady, you seem like an adventurous and curious spirit. Might I interest you in my wares? I fare from the far away land of Termina, where the Dekus still run wild and the Keatons still roam freely."

The young ladies' ears perked up at the mention of Keatons, and in a blink of an eye Misko knew this was his chance to seal a profitable deal.

"Ah yes, the rare yellow tailed Keaton, a rare but beautiful breed," he continued. "They fetch a fair price even in Termina. Would you like to see this wonderful mask I have to trade? It was made by the finest craftsmen in all of Termina!" That was a lie. Really he bought the silly thing off some street peddler with a twisted mustache who probably couldn't tell his left hand from his right.

To his joy, the pretty Lady smiled and nodded excitedly.

With a splitting grin, Misko pulled of the heavy pack weighing down his back, and from it he produced a wooden mask painted in vibrate arrays of yellow, black, and white. The pretty young Lady accepted it graciously, a small smile creeping its way across those lovely lips of hers.

"Its quite an endearing little thing," she said, running a finger over the mask's ears. Her smile was as sweet as honey. "How much would you sell it for, Master Misko?"

"For you, fine Lady, one-hundred rupees! Normally I would charge two-hundred, but I owe your escort a great debt." Bowing deeply, Misko smirked with pleasure. The money was as good as his.

"One-hundred rupees…" the young lady sighed. "I am sorry. I normally carry very little money on me… I've never had any need to bring much, you see, I've always been provided for. Perhaps you would be heading to Hyrule Castle? Castletown is a lively trading center. You would do well there, and I might happen upon you someday… I really would―"

The fair Lady's words fell off as she cocked a puzzled eye to her companion as he dug something up from his saddle bag. And wonders beyond wonders, the young swordsman threw a rupee purse to Misko. He snatched it out of the air effortlessly, and carefully analyzed each rupee.

 _Ten, twenty, ninety, one-hundred…_ It was all there. Yes… this young lad _had_ certainly done well for himself! Surprisingly, however, it seemed Misko was the only one happy about it.

"I don't need you to pay for me," the young Lady said peevishly to her escort, sparing a sharp eye his direction. "I am more than capable of handling things myself."

"As you say, my Lady," the young lad replied, his face set harder than stone. This answer only seemed to make the fair Lady angrier―and perhaps a touch embarrassed, if her red face was anything to go by―but, swallowing her pride, the pretty Lady turned away from her escort and offered a sincere thanks for such an adorable gift, going on about how she was going to pay her Knight back no questions asked.

The pretty Lady sure did have a temperament on her… That or her escort was an ass.

 _Maybe both,_ Misko thought with a chuckle.

And so, with their transaction complete, Misko waved his benevolent patrons a warm goodbye and carried on with his trek to Mabe Village. He counted his newly acquired rupees in his hand greedily more than once. _One-hundred…_ That was only going to last him about a week if he was frugal. If he wanted to get rich, he was going to have to start stealing again.

The idea fancied him. _Perhaps I will pay Hyrule Castle a visit,_ he thought. _I'm sure their coffers are packed to the brim there. Maybe there will be some items of notable value…_

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Better to Burn Down One Tree

Amilia never fancied herself as a particularly coordinated washing-maid, but today it seemed that her ability control herself had sprouted wings and flown out the window. There was no greater fool on Hylia's good green earth than herself, that she was certain about.

With every passing second Amilia spent elbow deep in the warm soapy water scrubbing away like her life depended on it, the ever surmounting fear that what she had done was irreversible began to grow closer to a grim reality. It made her stomach churn till she feared she would vomit.

Amilia hated to admit it, but she just couldn't stop crying like a child who accidentally broke their mother's favorite vase. Even as she thought of every possible way to mend the problem―every little trick, every meticulous and roundabout plan―hope was slipping surely through her fingers.

And the shame was insurmountable.

At least there was no one around to hear her weep. All the other servants were busy tending to their chores like amiable retainers should, not a fault or misstep in their comings and goings. And while they worked without a care in the world, she slaved away in the wash room, praying to Hylia for a miracle among miracles.

If she didn't get that awful ink stain out of Princess Zelda's dress, then she was done for.

She was already at the end of her rope with Misses Laure, the head washing-maid, after she tore a hole in one of the table linens from the banquet hall. _'Those table linens are worth more than your entire yearly salary,'_ Misses Laure said with a finger pointed at her nose. _'I ought'a box your ears till your deaf!'_

Amilia learned a hard lesson that day: Don't make Misses Laure angry. But, it seemed she couldn't keep to that lesson. She had gone and made a fool of herself once again!

Cupping her face in her soapy hands, Amilia wept even harder, trying her best to contain her loud sobs. The skirt was utterly ruined, and there was nothing she could do about it.

"I can't go back," Amilia moaned. She needed this job. To lose it would to resign her fate as a street corner beggar once more, too young tempt men for rupees, and too old for an orphanage. She would go hungry once more. Homeless, destitute. This job was her last hope, her last refuge, and now… It was sure as the rising sun in the morning to be lost.

That is at least until the strangest thing happened…

It was during her longest fit of bereft tears that an unfamiliar voice asked, "are you alright?"

Amilia nearly jumped out of her skin from the sudden intrusion. She was quick to blot away the warm tears running down her cheeks, but it did little in the way of redeeming her dignity. Whoever it was, she wasn't ready to look them in the eyes just yet.

"I fine," she insisted, "thank you." Amilia tried not to sniffle, but it was better than letting her nose run. She just needed a moment to collect herself… _Yes,_ that was all she needed, just a moment.

"I'm sorry, but―" But the words died out in her throat when she realized who had entered.

Amilia had only every seen Sir Link but once before, on the day that he was knighted in Castle Town… she was so ecstatic then. To think that they had found the living incarnation of a Hero in her lifetime! It made her squirm with excitement and hope; everyone did. It was like living in some sort of fairytale, and yet…

Well, fairytales were nothing but children's fancies.

Shortly after his knighting, Amilia had come to be employed in Hyrule Castle, where she began her honest work as a wash-maid, and learned the finer details of this supposed _Hero._ From all the gossip she had heard from the other maids, it seemed that this _Link_ of Hateno was rather content with treating the Princess poorly.

He spited the Princess, they said, always finding new ways to press in on sensitive subjects; testing her patience through an arrogantly selective muteness. It was like he thought she was below him, unworthy to even speak too, as if that Sword on his back made him better than her. He was as silent as the grave, the servants whispered, stony and unfeeling. Cold.

At least, that's what she had heard.

All the same, Amilia wondered what made him so special? Why did the Master Sword choose him?

It didn't make much sense to her to give a man that behaved like that such immense power and responsibility. If it was true, then why couldn't he see that the Princess was doing her best? Why should he be so hard on her just like her father? Weren't Heroes supposed to be merciful and understanding?

Amilia was very on edge about this whole _Hero_ business now, and rightfully so, she thought.

"Are you harmed?" The young Hero asked, his cool blue eyes scanning over her like one of those Sheikah machines… it made her chest knot up with anxiousness.

"No," Amilia replied cautiously, blinking and sniffling away the last of her tears. "I am just fine, thank you."

"Then why are you crying?" It was strange… his tone was almost… _gentle._ Perhaps she had heard wrong.

"It is nothing to worry yourself with, Sir Link," Amilia explained, hiding the Princess's dress under the water… He wouldn't tattle on her, would he? "But may I ask, why are you down here?"

"I came to gather my saddle bags from the grooms," he replied, stepping further into the room. "They seem to always forget to bring them up to my room." Amilia was sure that was no accident. Even the grooms had heard about how this _Hero_ was mistreating the Princess, no doubt they thought to serve some small justice.

"I'm sure your bags are down the hall, second door on the right," Amilia said, "that's where they usually unload. Now, is there anything else I can help you―" Amilia gave a small cry when Sir Link suddenly knelt down beside the washing tub and pulled up the Princess's ink stained dress from the murky water.

"Please, Sir," she pleaded, snatching it away. "Its nothing for you to worry about."

"What happened?" He asked. Again, there was a surprising hint of gentleness to his mellow tone. "This is this Princess's dress, yes?"

"It is… but it's nothing that should concern you. Please, I need to get back to work."

"Have you tried alcohol?" The question gave Amilia a long wondering pause. "It can help remove ink stains…"

Now how did he know that?

"Yes, I've tried alcohol," Amilia blurted out before she could think. "I've tried everything." She knew she should have shut her mouth, but with each word the next just seemed to pour out, and for a moment she was certain she would begin to sob again.

"I've tried warm and cold water," she continued. "I've tried soap, I've tried vinegar, I've tried everything! I've been scrubbing for hours now but there's just too much and the fabric…" The fabric was a delicate lacy material to begin with. It was a miracle she hadn't torn it already, scrubbing the way she had. At this point, she would cause more damage than good.

"And it's still there?" The young Knight examined the dress in his hands, his eyebrows knotting with deep thought.

"I… I have to get it out," Amilia groaned, tears welling up in her eyes again. "This is the Princess's favorite dress… It belonged to her mother before she died… It means so much to her. I would be thrown out of the castle if anyone found out."

"How did it happen?" Link asked. "The ink?"

Amilia's face grew hot with embarrassment and shame. "I've been trying to learn to read and write," she whimpered. "But I have so little time to practice my letters that I usually take my supplies with me in here and practice when I have a break in my work…" She bit back a sob. "But like an _idiot_ I knocked my ink well over and it got all over the Princess's dress…"

She didn't know why she told him… But she just couldn't bottle up the shame anymore.

"I see." With a long, almost methodical breath, the young Knight continued to examine the Princess's ruined dress, until he suddenly stood and wrung till it was only damp.

"What are you doing?"

"Come with me," he said simply. There was no question in his tone. It was a command. And she had not the courage to disobey. Even though her heart raced with fear, her mind begging her to run, her feet began to move. And with her head held low, she slunk away behind his back as he led her up through the servant's quarters and out into the access corridors.

Sir Link walked with a focused purpose; each foot fell confidently and assuredly like a soldier in formation. In a strange sort of way, it almost felt as if he was marching her off to trial, where she would assuredly be found guilty.

But then again, she _was_ guilty of being a fool.

Even though it was an accident, she _did_ ruin the Princess's dress, and that was that. There was no arguing it.

And so, Amilia took a deep breath, and resigned to her fate. She was just going to have to find another job, somewhere. Maybe if she dressed a certain way she could appear old enough to serve as a tavern maid. She was only twelve after all, that was old enough to do even something as simple as serve drunkards and travelers their meals.

Or maybe she could find an apprenticeship as a seamstress… Surely there was always a need for a good seamstress.

Amilia could only hope for the best now. It seemed that Sir Link intended to march her right up too Misses Laure and tell her what happened… or worse…

 _Oh Hylia above…_

Without a word, Sir Link led her higher and higher up into the castle, slipping through corridor to corridor, until they both stood at the threshold of a doorway she knew all to well. The doorway to Princess Zelda's bedroom.

He wasn't about to…

"Sir, please," she begged, pushing against all common sense and grabbed onto his arm before he could knock. "It was an accident, I swear! Please, I'll just go now! I won't make a fuss, just don't make me face the Princess―"

But he knocked anyways. Amilia's heart froze in her chest as his knuckles rapped against the door. _I should have run away right from the start,_ she bewailed in her mind. She should have just left without a word. And yet it felt as if her feet were weighed down by iron shackles.

She was going to have to face the Princess. She was going to have to tell her that she ruined her mother's dress; she had ruined the Princess's most treasured heirloom like some country bumpkin!

Amilia was certain she would faint as the door swung open. In fact, she nearly did.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Lini never struck Amilia as a pleasant sort of lady's maid―she had never heard her speak softly to anyone but the Princess herself―but witnessing the way that old hag's round eyes grew sharp and indignant at the very sight of Sir Link, Amilia was certain any one of her underhanded comments would pale in comparison to what she was about to say to the _Hero._

"There is a matter I need to speak to the Princess about," Sir Link replied, seemingly unaffected by Lini's dangerous glare.

"What is this about, _boy?_ I think you've stirred enough trouble for the Princess the last few days, you will just have to wait another time. And what is this washing-maid doing here? And what―" Lini's mouth crept open when she saw the Princess's ruined dress bundled up in Sir Link's hand.

"What did you do?" Lini demanded.

"I will discuss it with the Princess," he replied, unwaveringly. Amilia thought she would melt into the floor. And she nearly did when the Princess herself stormed through, her face affixed with an already souring expression.

And it only grew worse when Sir Link presented the ruined dress to her. Amilia couldn't help but sob. This was the end of her career at Hyrule Castle, and now both the Princess and the Hero Chosen by the Sword was going to be there to witness it!

"What on earth did you do!?" The Princess's voice had an almost airless, raspy quality to it, no doubt from shock, but Amilia couldn't bear looking her in the eyes to confirm her worst fears.

"I spilled ink on your dress."

Now Amilia's heart really did stop… _Did he just…?_

"It was an accident," Sir Link continued as calmly as if he were merely speaking of the weather. "I was walking back to my room after gathering my saddlebag from the grooms, which was holding a poorly corked inkwell, and when I turned the corner," he paused and motioned to Amilia, "I stumbled over this young wash-maid. She was carrying your dress to be cleaned. She is not in the wrong, it was my fault for being so careless, I was not watching where I walked. I brought her here so you would not find fault in her."

The Princess blinked several times before she could even seem capable of responding.

"This is my mother's dress," she whispered emotionally, gripping the folds of it's skirt in her fingers. "This was my most treasured possession. And you… You've gone and ruined it." The Princess looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"I understand this has caused you great distress," Sir Link said stoically. "I must offer my sincerest apologies―"

"You don't get to apologize, you beast," the Princess snapped, her eyes glistening with wetness. She ripped the dress away from his hands vehemently. "Ever since you came here you've cause me nothing but trouble. On purpose or not, I don't care anymore, but now this? Goddesses above why must you curse me like this! Get out of my sight, I cant stand to even look at you right now!"

Before Sir Link even had a chance to say anymore, the door was slammed in his face. On the other side Amilia could hear the muffled cries of the Princess, and the reassuring words of her eldest maid, and yet for what seemed like an eternity, she could do nothing but stand there agape.

Was she dreaming? Surely this was all just a nightmare, and all it would take was a pinch to wake up.

And yet, a pinch on her arm did nothing but turn red. She worked tirelessly to put everything together in her head, but she did not get the chance to stand there all day to. For as silently as he had come, Sir Link turned away from the Princess's door, and struck off down the hallway, his boots echoing on the hard-marbled floor, once again faintly reminiscent of a soldier in a long march.

"Wait!" Stumbling into a run, Amilia managed to catch up to Link before he turned the corner, but he hardly slowed down on her account. He seemed lost in thought to pay her much mind. She was almost too scared to interrupt him.

"Why did you do that for me?" she finally found the courage―and the sense―to ask. "Why would―"

"How old are you, kid?" he suddenly asked.

"Twelve," Amilia answered nervously. "Just barely twelve." The young Knight nodded solemnly, sparing her a glance that could almost be described as… _gentle._

"You're very young to be working in the castle," he sighed. "But I suppose that's how it is for most of us… What's your name?"

"Amilia."

"Well, Amilia," he said, slowing down at the intersection of four winding corridors. The Knight regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. His face was so hard to read. In one way, Amilia thought it looked sad almost, in a somber sort of way, and yet in another it was plain and unchanging as stone. It was if he wore a mask that somehow just didn't fit quite right. Like it was peeling away at the edges.

"Try to be careful next time. Keep a good level head on those shoulders and you'll be just fine." Amilia had to grab his arm again to stop him from leaving so soon, even though it frightened her. He _was_ a Knight, after all, and the Hero no less, it was very inappropriate for her to touch him so…

But she just had to know…

"Why did you do it? Why did you take the blame for me?" For a dreadfully long time, those deep blue eyes of his considered her thoughtfully till her cheeks began to feel warm. "I… You didn't even know me, and I… well, all of the maids thought…" They all thought that he was some mean-spirited brute. They had all conspired the same rumors.

"Better to burn down one tree than the whole forest," Sir Link said almost in a whisper, his eyes finally turning away, only this time they were downcast.

"I don't… I don't understand."

"The Princess," he sighed. "Well. She can be quite a force to reckon with. There's no sense in having you suffer the brunt of it. Besides…" the young Knight looked back to the way they had come, down the hallway leading to the Princess's doorway. After a long pause it seemed as if he had changed what he intended to say next. "Well, it doesn't matter now. Take care, Amilia."

"But isn't it unfair?" Amilia blurted out. "Why should you have to take blame alone? Not… not that I'm ungrateful, Sir―truly, I'm in your debt, I can't thank you enough―but it's not fair. It was my fault. The way the Princess yelled at you… Does it not hurt your feelings?"

"Hurt?" The young Knight gave the word a considerable pause, and then before he left, he said in all serious, "Not at all."

And well… Link always was a good liar.

* * *

Its good to be back, my friends. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was one I had in mind from the very beginning, though I don't know why. Anyways, again sorry it was such a long wait, work keeps changing my schedule. But hey, here we are, Book 2 Chapter 18! Looking forward to the next few spicy chapters, I can only promise things will get worse before they get better.

But don't lose hope, when it gets better, it'll be FeelsGoodMan time... At least until Ganon shows up and kills everyone... But don't worry, that too will have a happy ending!

Anyways, please let me know what y'all thought of this chapter! See you on the flip side!

-Bold


	37. Book 2 Chapter 19

Quick note: Make sure you all watch Memory #5: Zelda's Resentment before reading this chapter!

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

A Proper Chance at Escape

Of all the times to see that accursed Sword on his back, this was one of the worst. Her father had spent more than enough time that morning reminding her the success of drawing up that weapon signified… again!

Would she ever be free?

"It seems I'm the only one with a mind of my own. I, the person in question, am fine regardless of the King's orders. Return to the castle and tell that to my father please."

How many times had they been through this, Zelda wondered? It seemed like everyday was a new struggle with her Appointed Knight, and it showed no signs of improvement. _He_ was still just so stubborn and dead set on crawling under her skin!

Zelda was not in the mood to be followed around; to have his eyes boring holes in her back wherever she walked. Not now, and not ever.

And yet, here he was, defiant of her expressed order to leave her be. _Expressed!_ After what he did to her mother's dress―she was certain it was intentional, or at least he wasn't all that sorry if it really was an accident―Zelda had no more room for patience.

No room at all!

But even with that in mind, shortly after she berated him for following her out of the castle, an ill feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. It was like a whisper… a shadow. She wanted to ignore it, and in some ways she did, but after mulling it out in her head, Zelda came upon the conclusion that perhaps it was―and only a _slight_ inclination to, mind you―a feeling of regret.

 _But only a little!_

After all, he was doing his job. A foolish, _unnecessary_ job, she thought, but a job all the same. If only he could get it through that thick skull of his just how pointless this all was. She was certain he didn't want to be there. Surely not…

But no. She had to focus on the important part. He was here, and Zelda felt like she was on the verge of exploding, or arguably worse: falling apart and breaking down.

"And stop following me!"

The words burned on the tip of her tongue with vehement heat. And yet, he kept on following, just like he always did. Link didn't even shy off for a moment. From the top of the mountain where she had failed―like so many other times―to reopen one of the ancient Shiekah Shrines, all the way down to the western banks of Hyrule Field, her Appointed Knight trailed her like her own shadow:

Silently and eerily solemn…

Luckily, the Princess found some small distraction from him when a caravan of traders crossed their path. They brought wares of the common variety: food, linens, fine silks, jewelry, and Zelda made sure that this time she had more than enough of her _own_ money to buy what she pleased. She wasn't keen on the idea of ever being in Link's debt again. That was unpleasant business, she thought.

Well, there was one good side to that story. At least she was able to get that adorable little Keaton Mask.

However, on this particular day, the Princess made no such large purchase like that. When the tactful traders made their best best attempts to sell her fine handmade jewelry and the softest silks they had to offer, Zelda had to decline with good graces.

She was almost saddened to see the way their warm smiles turned disappointed frowns. There wasn't much sense in buying any of that, there was plenty of that sort back at the castle. She did, however, buy a handful of apples to feed to her horse.

Maybe that would win old Garin's affection.

Zelda had seen Link do that same for his horse before, and those two seemed to share of bond of rider and mount like unlike any she had seen. It was if Link merely had to shift his hips or turn his head and the creature would know exactly what he wanted and where to go. No hesitation, no stubborn nickering, just perfect unison. He didn't even have to tie the horse up at night. The gentle creature just lingered and indulged itself in fresh green grass before dozing off peacefully.

It was a bond to be quite envious of, that was for certain.

Perhaps, she thought, the secret was in the treats you gave them. Wasn't that how one would train children to behave? Reward certain behaviors? It was a scientific study she would have to pursue someday; what treats made your horse the most loyal and well behaved?

The idea sounded fun, really!

Not that she would have time for something as unimportant as that for a long while. There were too many ancient Guardians to service till they were functional. Ever since Link destroyed the last one she and Purah brought back to life, they had been hard at work trying to put that spark back into the decaying machines. Digging them out of the ground was one thing, but getting them to work again…

Well, they hadn't been successful quite yet.

"So, what do you think, Garin?" Zelda whispered in her horses' ear, sneaking a bright red apple right in front of his smacking lips. Garin took a greedy bite from it, and nearly a good chunk of her finger with it! She just barely managed to pull back before the lumbering oaf took her whole hand!

"Keep you palm flat, Princess," Link said nonchalantly from atop his saddle. "Let the horse come to you and scoop it off your hand. Otherwise you'll lose a finger."

"I know that, _thank you_ very much." She did, honestly! Gerin just took a little more than she expected, that was all. He wasn't the most well-behaved horse yet, or at least he didn't like _her_ very much, but he would someday.

Per usual, Link's only response was a slight nod. _Infuriating little…_

The Princess sighed with great duress. Zelda felt at her wits end in all this mess. She needed an escape. A true escape, where she could just be herself without all these pressing expectations and demands bogging her down, testing her patience, running her thin. Better yet, she wanted to be where ever there weren't any irksome _Heroes_ stalking her.

Lucky for Zelda, however, that chance to escape came far sooner than she could have ever anticipated.

It was by the end of that same day back at the castle stables that Zelda witnessed a rather peculiar sight. It was one of those rare times when her Appointed Knight wore a face that could almost be mistaken as something other than cold stone; it was as if that mask of his began to slip away. His eyebrows furrowed with the faintest hint of concern, and his lips twitched and turned with deep pondering.

Strangely enough, the cause of this strange sight came in the form of a hand-written letter delivered with great haste.

Mali, Hyrule Castle's most recurrent Rito courier, had met them at the stables with a flutter and hoot that Zelda remarked as very rushed and impatient. Not that it was anything new, he always moved with urgency.

With papers and letters piling up just at the brim of his couriers satchel, it was obvious Mali had far too many letters to deliver and very little sunlight to do it. Naturally, the courier was very hurried when he approached Sir Link with a curt―but still courteous―greeting and shoved a tattered envelope into his hands shortly after dismounting his horse.

"They said it was pressing," the Rito huffed, feathers ruffling with impatience. "Don't know about what, but ain't my business to ask. Good day, Sir Link. Good day Princess." And without another word, he took off, just barely managing to lift the heavy parcel bag across his shoulders.

The whole thing struck her as a little odd, but nothing more than that.

Zelda was already well on her way up the stairs to the east castle gate when she glanced back to see her Appointed Knight pouring over every line of what ever letter he received, and he didn't seem happy about it. Not that he ever looked anything a normal person could call happy…

But she could hardly bring herself to care. She had seen enough of his face today, and a warm bath was in order wash away the day's toils. Perhaps Lini would even allow her a small glass of wine to combat the headache she felt coming on.

Zelda didn't think much of the strange occurrence after that… that is at least until she heard the maids whispering amongst themselves.

The maids always were whispering, though Zelda tried to ignore it most of the time. Hardly anything interesting ever came from their musings, they were usually young inexperienced women easily prone to excitement and fluff. Of course, the Princess could remark the same of herself, being of roughly the same age, but at least she kept her rumoring and gossiping to a closed group. Between Purah, Lini, and of course Urbosa when she was around, Zelda spoke little to anyone else.

Especially not Link.

Which was why when she heard his name whispered on their lips while she bathed on that late summer's night, her ears seemed to twitch and turn to listen. _"The grooms said he left in a hurry,"_ one of them buzzed in the other's ear, _"barely had the saddle back on his horse before he bolted off like a…"_

" _Do they know why?"_ the other asked, but Zelda missed the answer that came. _"Wonder if he'll be back before autumn… Well how am I supposed to know…? At least the Princess…"_

"Where did he go?" Zelda asked, though all her maids turned red and fell to silence. They were lousy whisperers, anyone could have heard them. But in this instance, that was to Zelda's advantage. "Sir Link, where did he go off to in a hurry?"

"No one knows, Princess," one of the braver maids replied with a wobbly bow of the head. "We only heard he left mere minutes after he escorted you back to the castle. He didn't say a word―at least that's what the grooms said… I'm sure it's nothing, your Majesty."

Immediately, Zelda thought of the strange letter he received.

What its contents were to make him behave as such was no concern of hers, but this was an opportunity she wasn't going to waste! Making quick work of her bath, Zelda tip-toed back to her bedroom and dismissed her maids after dressing, desiring silence to think and plan.

With no certainty as to when Link would be back, the Princess would have to act fast, but carefully. Her escapade earlier that morning had gone off without a hitch―that is at least until Link caught wind of it―so she was confident she could slip out of the castle again without any trouble.

Just as long as she kept quiet and stuck to her plans, she would be well on her way by the first light of morning. The only question was where should she go first?

The answer came to her later that night when a dreadfully cold wind passed through Hyrule like a storm front, and set her to shivering even under her blankets with no fire set to warm her. Zelda hated the cold. It reminded her to much of her morning routine praying in the freezing waters of the castle sanctuary.

It seemed summer had at last come to its inevitable end, and the first chill of autumn had come. Soon the trees would change color, the grass sparse and paler, and she would shiver like a fool.

There was no better a time than now to visit her good friend and Champion in the one place where the sun always shone and the heat always returned in the morning. Not to mention the fact that the one person she was trying to avoid would be barred from the city gates without question.

Tucking her knees into her chest for warmth, Zelda smirked as she slowly drifted off towards a long-desired sleep. Gerudo Desert would do wonderfully indeed. For a time, the Princess wondered what could have possibly called her Appointed Knight away with such urgency… but that thought passed away with time, and soon she dreamt of warm dunes and sand seals.

* * *

Commander Jorn had never seen anything quite like that in all his years as an East Post Garrison guard. He had rarely seen anyone ride at night―especially when it was so dark―at any rate, and certainly not with such speed and reckless abandon. Who ever it was, he obviously had a death wish riding like that in the pitch black of night.

A horse could easily break an ankle on an unseen upturned stone, or worse, ride right into a low hanging branch in darkness, but the mysterious rider seemed to care. They couldn't even close the gates in time before the madman bolted through as quick as a flash of lightning.

Watching that hooded rider gallop over the hills and through the garrison gates under the patches of pale cold moonlight reminded him of a story he had once heard as a child about a lone rider that haunted Hyrule at night like a wraith hellbent on one purpose. The rider had no face, it wore only a mask blacker than the darkest nights, as the story went, and though it had a tongue to speak it remained silent as the grave.

But his eyes… Well there was something more about them.

As the story put it, his eyes could cut right through the heart of even the bravest Knights and set them to shivering with fear. The hooded rider could be anywhere, the story went, and with him came ill omens and portents of sickness. Keep clear of the hooded rider, the story went, unless you wanted your household to fall ill with disease.

It was a wives-tale, no less, little more than a fancy story to scare children out of sneaking out at night, but even as a man Jorn had to admit it set his skin to crawling. Just who in there right mind would ride so recklessly on a night like this?

"Should we go after him?" one of Jorn's comrades asked, pulling down his helmet so that it could hide his shaken face better.

"I see little point in it," Jorn answered after a pause. "We'd never catch him. Besides, some other garrison is sure to stop him for questioning. All will be well, I'm sure of it." Jorn's companion didn't seem to take much comfort in that―he was a young lad, green and jumpy―but he did not give anymore voice to his concerns.

"Why do you think he's off riding like that at night?" the lad asked.

"Who knows? Just keep that gate closed, you hear? I don't want anymore suspicious riders gallivanting through my garrison again."

"Aye, Commander."

* * *

And off to Gerudo Village Zelda goes! As I'm sure you all know what happens there, I think you will be happy to know we are at the landing of the stairs of progress! Don't worry, this slow burn won't last forever ;)


	38. Book 2 Chapter 20

-Prelude X-

Dampé never considered himself a particularly astute man. That's why he _was_ a grave keeper, mind you, but he was an honest keeper at that. Digging up graves and providing a respectful place for the dead to rest wasn't exactly a job that required a lot of hard thinking like those mad Sheikah scientists. All it took was a strong and humble heart, and a willingness to get elbow deep in dirt.

And well, it seemed right to old Dampé that if he should be the one to tend to them, he should do it as well as his capable hands could.

It was funny, he thought, how being so close to the dead all the time humbled a man. He could recall the days of his youth like they were yesterday, when he took all life for granted and lived in excess. Oh, the time he wasted pursuing trifling things such as wealth and status, the countless days he spent drinking, gambling, and merry making till he was sick, and it was all for naught. For all of Dampé's toiling in the world in search of greatness, at the end of it all he only found himself marching down endless rows of tombstones, shovel hiked up over his shoulder and a lantern in hand to ward off the darkness and damp air.

But, as he saw it, that's just fate worked. There were those destined to reach for the stars, and those who were left to tend to the ground beneath them. There were those who the world would sing songs and write legends about, and there were those that kept that world turning all the same. The farmer, the smith, the builder and the cobbler; those folks were the real backbones of the world, and he fit right in among them.

Admittedly, it was a bit of a surprise for Dampé when he finally came upon the conclusion that he was quite alright with being a humble grave keeper. Someone had to do it. It was an honest a job as honest could be, and in that sense, he found a modicum amount of pride.

If only it weren't so cold all the time.

Summers came and went like clockwork, and yet in recent years his humble little field of well-kept memorials seemed quite incapable of warming up even a little. All through the long nights Dampé was certain his bones would rattle until they fell off if the weather didn't improve, and in the mornings his muscles were stiff and unyielding from the cold.

Must have been something with that big Beast everyone kept yammering on about brought. A portent to Hyrule's doom, they said. _Bah,_ he never paid much mind to such nonsense! There was very little time for such fancy thinking when the dead needed caring for.

Besides, today, he had a guest that needed his full attention.

"Afternoon, Ma'am," old Dampé said politely, lifting his tattered soft-cap atop his head in greeting. "May I be of any service today?" The woman, who Dampé remarked as quite handsome in many senses, did not grace his question with an answer, but he didn't let it bother him.

Guests rarely ever did speak, not the new ones at least.

No, the handsome lady just sighed with somber dissatisfaction, and continued on her way, eyes cast downwards to the earth beneath her feet. _Poor thing,_ he thought. Loss was such a heavy burden to carry, that he knew better than most. And so, giving himself a shake to rid the cold from his aging bones, Dampé set after the handsome lady.

"'Scuse me Ma'am," he continued. "I couldn't help but notice that you're upset. Now I know it ain't easy feelin's, but why don't you come and sit down and let your mind think on it for a bit. I'm sure you'll feel better in no time."

"I never got to see him before it was time," the handsome lady sighed, and with great sorrow too. Dampé assumed she spoke of some relative, perhaps even an old friend, but it was not his place to ask of such things. A good keeper never pressed to hard. Sometimes, time was just the best way of healing those sorts of hurts.

"But I suppose you are right," the handsome lady continued. "It would do my heart well to sit and think awhile."

"Ah, that's more like it, Ma'am. Come with me, I have a place prepared." With a warm smile, Dampé led his guest not but a few yards eastwards, where he tended to a lovely park bench overlooking a shallow pond. The faint creaking of the trees above and the gentle waterside song of the frogs was a soothing sound to take it. He thought the handsome lady might enjoy such a tranquil landscape.

Unfortunately, however, the handsome lady didn't seem to find much serenity in the beauty of nature. Her solemn eyes remained trodden and filled with distant thoughts. But that was just fine by Dampé, there would be more than enough time to adjust. No need to rush.

Over the years he had countless innumerable guests, and they were varied beyond measure. The old, the young, the humble and foolhardy… _Yes,_ he had many visitors, and they all came round eventually. That was his job, after all, and old Dampé stuck by that responsibility.

"Well," he declared, "if you are in need Ma'am, don't hesitate to call on me. I'll be around."

"…"

 _Poor thing._ Dampé knew she would be there for a while, so he let her have a little silence and peace. Besides, he had a flower bed to attend too. Even in the cold weather his beautiful young buds held on to life till the very last, and he had no intention of abandoning them wantonly to the frost. A warm blanket for them was in order to keep them from freezing once the sun set.

And for what seemed like a happy eternity, old Dampé knelt down in the soft soil and tended to his beloved plants until his back began to creak from being hunched over too long. He was getting too old, Dampé thought disdainfully. Even such trivial tasks made him feel like a door hinge in desperate need of oil. Everyday there seemed to be a new tweak or twinge, ache or throb.

Luckily, however, his attention was eventually swept away by a surprise visitor; a man of peculiar make.

He seemed like any other soldier Dampé had ever seen before, that young man wearing a hooded cloak. With the sword on his back and the way he marched around like a soldier in formation, no other job description could have fit better.

But it was not just his garb and manners that caught Dampé's attention. It was the young man's striking eyes that occupied his curiosity. Deep blue and wide, it seemed to Dampé that there were too many emotions to those eyes of his to even count. They expressed things that you just couldn't put into words, and yet at the same time they were hard and unrevealing as stone. It was just plain paradoxical.

It was as if his expression was forever affixed by two attitudes: two masks for one face, so to speak.

It was the strangest phenomenon he had seen in a while. Then again, spending all your time in a graveyard didn't warrant seeing very many phenomenal things to begin with. Perhaps, he thought, it was just his old age and long periods of isolation that altered his perception.

"Afternoon, Sir," Dampé called out, lifting the soft cap atop his head in greeting.

"Afternoon," the young man answered, though in a markedly soft and monotone voice.

"You're welcome to stay here as long as you like," Dampé declared. "I keep good company here. There's a lovely pond just around that bend with a bench to can sit at." But the newcomer didn't seem interested in that idea.

"You buried a middle-aged woman here recently," he noted, tugging at his hood as if to conceal his face a little better. Dampé was certain the young man intended to hide the glistening in his eyes. "Where exactly?"

"Oh, well," Dampé thought aloud. "I've buried many people before… but yes. Yesterday morning, it was. Sad business, kind Sir, but she rests easy now, over there by that pond. Go on through, good Sir, I'll let you have as much time as you would like."

"Thank you," the young man replied with a thoughtfully long pause, and began to walk in the direction of Dampé's pointing finger. The old grave keeper watched the young soldier with a keen and curious eye. Though he seemed a solemn lad, there was certainly a vigor about him that spoke of a man set on the trail of a long journey.

The world had much for him yet still.

But perhaps that thought was just the old grave keeper's idle fancies. He liked to think he was attuned with the comings and goings of the world, the invisible hand of fate turning folk left and right, but he could not swear by it. He was just a humble grave keeper after all, not some high and mighty prophet.

And so, keeping true to his work, old Dampé bent back down to tend to his lovely flowers, occasionally sparing an eye for the young man as he sat down at the pond bench in solitude with his eyes cast down to a fresh mound of dirt.

 _Poor little thing,_ old Dampé thought.

But, at the very least, it did warm his heart to see that handsome lady smile for the first time since she arrived as she wrapped unseen arms around the young lad in a long and meaningful embrace…

If only he could feel or sense it. How much better it would have been.

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Gerudo Desert

The desert always radiated with beauty under the pale light of the moon. It was something about how the light caught the shifting white sands, and the way the evening breeze brought a much-needed reprieve from the oppressive heat, and most importantly the peaceful silence…

Goddesses above it was so quiet.

Perhaps that was what Sir Alaric liked the most about the Gerudo Desert. Unlike Hyrule, nighttime seemed to mean something to the desert folk. Even in the Bazaar where he housed himself for the last couple of days, the sanctity of a peaceful night's rest was respected by native and traveler alike. There were no drunkards stirring up trouble, no loud taverns, no parties, just silence.

There was little more than the gentle breeze.

 _Yes_ , under the desert moonlight was where Sir Alaric felt most at ease. It was where he could enjoy a warm pipe and entertain his mind with enumerating thoughts. His mind often drifted to thoughts of his family, though he did not worry for them too much. He was confident they were safe and tucked away in bed now. He hoped his children were missing him… They always did grow feisty when he stayed away for work too long.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed they would just have to be patient. He would have to keep to his post till Sir Link arrived.

With a sigh, Sir Alaric glanced over the words left to him by the Princess just days before.

"' _Do not concern yourself with my leaving,'"_ her note said, and he harrumphed. _"'I sent word to Urbosa ahead of me, she will meet me and escort me the rest of the way safely. There will be no need for you to worry.'"_

So she wasn't entirely a fool at least.

"' _I tell you this alone because I can trust you. I need time away from the castle and my father, and most of all_ Him _. Please explain to my father that there will be no need to rouse the whole country to search for me, I will be in Gerudo Village safe and sound."_

"' _P.S. don't tell_ Him _where I am. I have no doubt he'll cause trouble.'"_

"Not entirely a fool, but a fool girl all the same," Sir Alaric huffed. Where had all her good sensibilities gone? True, she was just a young girl and that meant there was room for adolescent foolishness, but he thought better of the sharp head on her shoulders. He thought she understood the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. Sir Alaric shook his head hopelessly.

At least she was safe. That was all that mattered.

Yes, she was safe alright under the watchful eyes of that gigantic desert chief, Urbosa. He was certain not even the whole host of Yiga sniveling somewhere out there in the dunes could lay a finger on the Princess with that brute watching over her. As long as the Princess didn't do anything stupid, that is.

Sir Alaric shook his head again because that was all he knew he could do now. She was no longer his burden by duty, but she was still his Princess. There was more than enough obligation in that to drag him away from his family and all the way out in the harsh lands of rock and sand.

Luckily, however, that very night there came the man he awaited to relieve him of his post.

Sir Link's golden hair was easy to spot among the moonlit dunes of the desert. He was like a small insect scattering up and down the shifting silt and judging by his encumbered pace it seemed the young lad had been on a long trek for quite a while. Too bad horses couldn't handle the terrain, they would have made the journey much easier.

Still, with a little time and effort, the young Hero arrived in the Bazaar safe and sound.

"Well. It certainly took you long enough to get here, lad," Sir Alaric called out from atop his stone perch above the Bazaar. "I was worried you would miss my letter back at the castle… but you are here now. That's all that matters."

"I apologize I've made you wander all the way out here on my accord," Sir Link answered in that voice as flat as a paving stone, but it still rung with honesty. "The Princess is well?"

"As well as she can be," Sir Alaric declared, clearing his pipe of tobacco and tucking it in his belt pouch before he climbed down the ladder to speak eye-to-eye to his comrade. "She expressly ordered me not to inform you she was here… but well…" Fool girl!

"I would have found out anyways," the young Knight said matter-of-factly. "The King had choice words for me when I first got back."

"As he should," Sir Alaric grunted, clapping Link on the back. "Were you not… well, the Hero, you would have been drawn and quartered for abandoning your post just like any man of rank." The way Link's eyes moved told Sir Alaric that he knew that fact well enough.

"But between me and you," the elder Knight continued with a long sigh, falling in beside his comrade as he continued his march eastward, "you're not the only one that needs a few _choice words._ Princess Zelda will hear from her father soon enough once you get her back to the castle. And this whole debacle has become quite the buzz around the common folk. You best watch yourself, Hero, gossip is a dangerous thing to a man in your position."

The young Hero nodded solemnly.

"So. What called you away so soon anyways, and without warning?" If his eyes served him right under the dim light of night, he was certain he saw muscles twitch all across Sir Link's stony face. For what reason he could not say. The boy was as expressive as a mollusk, and open even less so.

"It was nothing of consequence," the young Hero answered after a thoughtfully long pause.

"Is that what you told the King?"

Link nodded once.

Blowing air from his mouth, Sir Alaric harrumphed what must have been the hundredth time that night, and gave the young lad a tight squeeze on the shoulder. "I'm surprised he didn't draw and quarter you anyways, Hero. The King has always had a bit of a temperament, but I never witnessed him being merciful to Knights who gallivant off for _'nothing of consequence_.' There is little more important to him in life than duty and responsibility, and he expects the same of his men."

"I understand."

"Do you, lad?" Alaric insisted, carefully tempering his voice to be both firm yet calm and constructive. "There is no more important thing right now than our duties to this kingdom. A storm is coming, Hero, and you and the Princess are at the forefront of it." As always, Link remained silent as the grave.

"Now I will not force you to tell me why you truly abandoned your post without warning―each man ought to have the right to his own privacy, and I know you are no fool―but I will tell you this. Whatever _it_ is, _it_ cannot jeopardize the safety of our Kingdom. I do not wish to sound hard or unsympathetic, Sir Link, but that is the way of the world. You are our destined Hero. We can't have you vanish on us for days at a time." Sir Link nodded firmly, but his eyes were markedly turned elsewhere, as if he thought to hide them.

With his piece spoken, Sir Alaric let the conversation breathe in silence as they marched there way to the gates of Gerudo Village. Why the boy wanted to come here at the dead of night, he couldn't say. It wasn't like they were going to let him in just because the sun was gone, but Sir Link seemed keen on trying anyways.

And as he expected, the sentries stopped him in his tracks with spears pointed to the throat, and of course Sir Link tried to argue his way in. And when that didn't work, he tried sneaking his way in. Of course, Sir Alaric knew that wasn't going be successful, he had tried himself many times before, and each time he ended up right back where he started, winded, knocked on his ass, and embarrassed.

No, Sir Alaric accepted the wiser path, and took a seat against the stone walls of the village, and continued his contemplative smoking. The least he could do before he left in the morning was make sure Link didn't get himself hurt trying to force his way into that damnable fortress of women.

One could only imagine Sir Alaric's utter surprise when Sir Link actually did manage to find a way inside in the most peculiar fashion.

Of course, his plan required assistance from the inside, but luckily it seemed the mighty Urbosa had mind to play on both sides. With a curling grin, she offered the young Hero a helping hand.

* * *

Things will get better for little Link, I swear! Don't lose heart!

-Bold


	39. Book 2 Chapter 21

Be sure to watch Memory #6: Urbosa's Hand before reading this chapter!

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

An Adventure on the Dunes

"Well," Urbosa said with a pleased hum. "You have certainly brightened up the last few days, little bird." With bold and beautiful lips painted an odd color, the Gerudo Chief's smile was both mysterious and handsome. In fact, those words alone could be used to describe her.

Zelda of course knew far less mystery in her oldest friend, more so that many, but even she had to admit sometimes that woman was as secretive and sharp as a Keaton.

"I think the desert air suits me," the Princess chimed, having emptied her goblet of cool spring water. Even in the early morning sun, the heat came in waves that made her throat dry quickly, but she much preferred it over the cold that was rummaging through Hyrule as of late.

With a short laugh, which was more akin to a grunt, Urbosa said, "and the convenient distance to men our walls provide no doubt suits you as well? Honestly Princess, you must come to understand the mind of men. You can't spend your days running off whenever some boy tests your patience." Zelda squinted eyes at the Chief, and not because of the bright sunlight.

"I wasn't running away," Zelda insisted― _no, not insisted, stated as fact―_ with a cool disposition. "I merely saw an opportunity and took it."

"Is that so?" Urbosa grinned that curious grin again. "Then in that case, I'm sure you won't be displeased to hear that your Appointed Knight arrived last night and tried to force his way in?"

"He what!?" The words slipped out faster than she could control her tongue. So much for cool composure.

"Oh, of course he never made it in," the Gerudo mused. "The guards caught him more than a handful of times. I must admit, the boy is persistent. I don't see why you find that trait unattractive―"

"Don't say it, Urbosa," Zelda warned with a sharp glance, but Urbosa merely chuckled to herself like there was no greater amusement.

"Whatever you wish, Princess," she replied. "But, all the same, he has found you out and sent Sir Alaric on his way. The least you can do is go speak with the boy. Let him see that you are safe and unharmed. I'm sure he's worried sick."

"I won't and he isn't," Zelda huffed.

"You don't know that. Why else would he try to sneak in eleven times at the dead of night?"

" _Eleven_ times?" Zelda wanted to bury her face in her palms. Goddesses above he was so… so… "He can continue to sneak in all he wants," she said with respectable collection. "Send him a message if you want, Urbosa, tell him I am perfectly fine with or without him here."

"Now you are just behaving like a child, Zelda!" The Princess rarely ever heard her name uttered in that tone. Usually it came from her father, but Urbosa wasn't entirely a new figure to take that parental firmness with her. "Put yourself in his shoes, Princess. Think of the consequences he will face because you snuck out from underneath his watch. Think of the consequences _you_ will face."

"I didn't sneak out," Zelda insisted. "He left in an untimely manner, and I had work here to do that couldn't wait on his whims. And speaking of that, I think its about time I head out to perform my survey." Wearing a calm composure, the Princess pushed her chair back, and graciously curtsied to the Gerudo Chief, thanking her for yet another delicious Gerudo-style breakfast.

"Think on my words, Princess. That's all I ask," Urbosa sighed, spinning a half-empty crystal glass in her sinewy fingers. "He crossed half of Hyrule just to reach you." Zelda took a deep breath, relenting just ever so slightly.

"I will try. See you at sunset."

And in all honesty, Zelda did try to imagine herself in Link's shoes, but the problem was… well, she didn't know the first thing about him. How did he think? How did he see the world? How was she supposed to empathize with someone she had no common ground with. Sir Link was such a foreign thing.

So stubbornly, irritatingly foreign!

And so, after a quarter hour of trying, Zelda simply gave up. It was a hopeless cause to begin with, she'd never come to understand what made a rock _a rock_. Besides, she had far more important things to occupy her mind with than fancy ideas inside _that man's_ brain, and chief among those wonders was the mystery of the Seven Heroines.

She just had to puzzle together that monolithic masterpiece.

Zelda hadn't much scientific or historical grounds to back it up―it was more of an educated hypothesis really―but the fire of wonder that ignited in her chest when she first walked at the feet of the colossal statues of the Seven Heroines was more than enough to drive her fanatic surveying in search of an answer:

 _Did the ancient Heroines of the Gerudo tribe know some secret to banishing the Beast?_

Legends had it Ganon had once reincarnated as a Gerudo man; a usurper king. _Surely_ , she thought, the land of the Gerudo would hold a secret or two about killing deranged sorcerers with the spirit of a demon. Perhaps, if she were incredibly lucky, the Seven Heroines were the key to that secret.

Zelda was already getting jittery just thinking about it, even if it was a long shot.

Shouldering a backpack with an assortment of basic surveying tools, the Princess made her way into the heart of Gerudo Village and spoke to Sergeant Nai'el, her provided bodyguard, and ordered her to gather her to gather up her necessary possessions up before they set out once again into the desert. And while she waited, Zelda took an easy stroll around the various merchant shops and booths, speaking with the local women.

The working women often showered her with a little more attention than the rest, being a foreigner―and a royal one at that―often caught the attention of the Gerudo traders, but she didn't mind the considerations all too much. In fact, she rather enjoyed it. Gerudo women were hard bargainers, and it was a fascinating study to look into on the social behaviors of sellers and buyers alike.

That morning however, it seemed she had a small amount of competition to vie for in regards to attention. Not that it was any real problem, there were bound to be other Hylian women that would set the merchants to pampering for a little extra coin and rupee―that was the nature of markets, after all―though Zelda thought the scene was a rather odd one.

This ' _competition,'_ so to speak, came in the form of a meek woman donned in traditional Gerudo wear. With vibrant silks and a mask covering her face, Zelda thought her to be rather lean and almost masculine in build, but with remarkably handsome blue eyes.

That was probably why she turned the eager merchants' eyes; they were always keen on treating the prettiest women with offers of only the most expensive jewelry and clothing, and those vain enough to let that get the better of their judgements usually dug out anything and everything was in their purses.

However, the Hylian woman seemed almost accosted to be offered such things, shying away with sheepish nods and shakes of the head before slipping off into the crowd like she was being chased by ghosts. Yet despite her best efforts, she'd just be caught up by yet another merchant trying to force perfumes or gems in her face, sending the girl scurrying off again and again. The scene went on endlessly.

It went on endlessly, and somehow always within earshot.

Every corner she turned, the young Hylian woman seemed to be there, ducking and running from the overbearing merchants, but always on Zelda's trail. Perhaps the foolish girl just wanted to find something familiar, _someone_ more Hylian. Unfortunately, however, the Princess didn't have much time to extend a hand of familiarity to the woman, for well within the hour, Nai'el reported back, suited and armed for travel.

And so, with her stroll around the market drawn to a close, Zelda set out once again into the harsh Gerudo Desert, eyes aimed high on the mountains of the Seven Heroines, where she spent the rest of a scorching day under the relentless sun, turning over every stone and tracing every ancient rune.

Sadly, she came no closer to answering the questions that kept her awake at night than the day before.

* * *

"Did you do as I asked, little bird?" Urbosa disliked pressing such things on Zelda's mind, but some things were too important―too crucial to guiding her down the right path―to leave unasked. Admittedly, she was disappointed by the Princess's answer.

"I did, but it was pointless," Zelda yawned, eyes fluttering till they closed. "He and I are so unalike. I feel I could become more well acquainted with a pebble than I can with _him._ " She never would say his name. It was if uttering it was an omen to her; she only saw what he was, not _who_ he was. Though, in many ways, Urbosa supposed that was true for most people.

But not her… No. She had pieced that little mystery together. Mostly.

"I think you and Link are more alike than you think, Princess." Her voice was just barely a whisper, but Zelda was already asleep, leaning against her arm like a child.

Well… she was a child, just one forced into the responsibilities of one much older.

It was much the same for Link. Though he would not utter a word about himself, there was so much to be read between the lines. It was all in the subtle ways his head tilted, the way his eyebrows furrowed, and eyelids moved. It was in the way his breath would change with each question, the way his stance would widen the moment the subject of conversation ever turned onto him.

That in itself was a telling sign as plain-spoken words from the mouth.

He was the Hero, yes, but he did not want the title, nor felt it. And that was a truth she wanted Zelda to discover for herself. Young, foolish Zelda. Her sweet little bird. She had so much to learn.

Not that Link didn't have things to learn himself; he was as large an oaf as the next foolhardy soldier, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden. No legendary blade was going to front that lie forever. No, he was just as young, and foolish as the Princess. Stoic to a fault.

But, if everything went accordingly, Urbosa was going to put an end to all this foolishness once and for all. All she needed was a little time, and a cunning idea.

"Ah, well you certainly got here fast." Much faster than she anticipated. He must have been sneaking about Vah Naboris' feet long before sunset. He was quieter and swifter than a Keaton, she had come to find. It was a wonder her guards had managed to apprehend him so many times the night before.

"I should have expected as much, from the Princess's own Appointed Knight… She was out on a survey all day today… still as the sands now." Urbosa wanted to sigh. Despite her insistence otherwise, Zelda still thought there was some secret locked away in those vast dunes and mountains.

"So… spill it boy. Have the two of you been getting along?" As always, Link's mute answer was nothing short of dissatisfactory. No wonder he drove the Princess mad… but of course, she couldn't say that outright. The situation called for tact.

"It's okay. I know, you silence speaks volumes. She gets frustrated every time she looks up and sees you carrying that Sword on your back. It makes her feel like a failure when it comes to her own destiny. Don't worry, its not like you carry blame in any of this.

"Its unfortunate, she put in more than enough time." Urbosa gave a pause as memories of her time with Zelda began to flood in. So many countless hours the poor girl had spent ridden with worry―spirit crushing anxiety―as the burden put over her shoulders seemed to drown her. Urbosa's heart cried out for her.

"Ever since she was a young girl, she gone through rigorous daily routines to show her dedication… She once passed out in the freezing waters trying to access this Sealing Power. And yet, she has nothing to show for it." Urbosa could feel the weight of Link's eyes turning away contritely… That was good. That meant he was feeling something.

Empathy, she hoped. Surely, he could come to understand how Zelda felt.

"That's the motivation driving her research. I'd be doing the same thing. She really is quite… special." A breath of a moment was more than enough to give Link a moment of careful contemplation. "You be sure to protect her with your life. It's quite the honor."

The solemn look in Link's eyes was reassuring. Though his lips would not move, Urbosa's words had found their mark.

"The night brings a chill. It's probably time we take her in… Or…"

Urbosa grinned as she snapped her fingers and a bolt of lightning struck the earth, creating a deafening crack that made the Princess nearly leap out of her own skin!

" _Urbosa! What was that? Did you feel that?... Wait―how did you―What are you doing here!?"_ Oh how she could barely contain her laughter.

* * *

Guess what happens next chapter :D

I for one cant wait. I'm ready to start writing wholesome things, and I hope you feel the same!

-Bold


	40. Book 2 Chapter 22

You know what time it is!

* * *

-Prelude XI-

Tracking down that persnickety little Knight of Zelda's became a surprising source of amusement for the Gerudo Chief Urbosa. He was as slick and as quick as an alley cat, especially at night, but in the day, he stood out in the crowds on account of his light skin and golden hair.

Link could not sneak around forever. Urbosa was both ruthless and determined.

Of course, she did nothing to compromise his disguise― _she was on his side, after all_ ―why waste all her careful planning?

The Princess had no idea what was in store for her.

Still, that was for another time. Right now, she had more she needed to tell the boy. There was so much more he needed to learn, and he was as obstinate as the Princess. Of course, he was silent in his stubbornness―his selective muteness was child's play really―but that had little bearing on Urbosa.

He would learn, one way or another. They had gone through this little charade more than enough times to make _some_ sort of improvement.

"Tell me, young one," Urbosa said with a grin, tapping Link on the shoulder as he passed by. The Knight slipped into the alleyway without a falter in his step. "Why does a _little bird_ sing? Is it because she wants to, or is it because she is told to?"

Link seemed to like riddles… that much she _had_ learned in their brief interactions. She couldn't just give him the answers directly. He had to discover them organically, otherwise it would all be meaningingless.

Luckily―and to Urbosa's delight―the boy's eyes flickered with understanding. He knew to which _little bird_ she referred.

Turning his head left and then right, the young Knight made sure no one was close enough to hear, and then in a hushed voice said, "in this world, does any bird have a choice?" A witty answer, Urbosa thought, though not what she wanted. He needed to understand her meaning better, there could be no deviation.

"Every little bird has a choice," the Gerudo Chief replied with a sly grin. "They have the choice to sing because they want to, or because they find beauty in it… some sing to attract another… and some don't sing at all. But there are times when the world tells a little bird they must sing because that is what they were born to do. Is that not unfair? Shouldn't a little bird sing the song of their heart?"

Link pondered her reply for a long while, his eyes fixated on the walls and ground around him. He was quite charming when he was locked deep in thought… It was the tilt of his head and the way the corners of his lips curled that amused Urbosa.

"Sometimes a bird must sing for everyone's sake."

What a boring answer, Urbosa thought with a sigh. "I supposed in a way, yes, but a little bird can learn to change the song of their heart. They can find new meaning in that song; shape it in their heart of heart's until it is their own…. But how can a little bird learning to shape the song of their heart?"

And to that, the young Knight had no answer. _Very well…_ he would learn soon enough. Besides, Urbosa was pleased with their progress so far. All they needed was a little more time, and a few more riddles.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Wrath of the Yiga

"Nai'el." Wiping sweat from her forehead, the Princess looked out over the railing of some rather shoddily constructed scaffolding to her desert companion. Up in those rickety rafters was where she had spent nearly the whole day, brushing aside mounds of sand and dust from the ancient statues of the Gerudo Heroines. Unfortunately, just as it was the day before, her tinkering and investigation led to nothing more than more than crumbling stone and weather-beaten rock.

Dead end after dead end, and there was not even the slightest mention of Ganon or how to defeat him…

Perhaps it was a hopeless cause to begin with.

"Yes, Princess?" Nai'el, replied hoarsely. For all her rustic beauty, the tall Gerudo lacked any sort of soft or feminine voice―it was as pleasant as chalk against stone―but that hardly mattered nor did she seem to care. She was a warrior through and through, Nai'el declared, there wasn't time to act or sound pretty.

"You wouldn't happen to know of any other folk tales of your people referring to the Usurper King, would you?" To Zelda's bitter disappointment, Nai'el stoutly shook her head, shoulders shrugging deeply. The Princess sighed hopelessly.

"These statues have been explored top to bottom already by Hylia who knows how many scientist and archeologist, Princess, but they haven't found much more than you. The Seven Heroines simply are what they are. Decrepit statues. I don't even think they date back far enough to the Usurper King."

Well that would have been nice to know before she spent nearly three days poking at them!

"Anyways," Nai'el grunted in continuation, "we should head back now, Princess. We don't want to be caught out here in the night. Too dangerous and cold."

Admitting defeat, Zelda somberly climbed down the scaffolding ladder, head hanging a little lower than the day before. She knew better than to get her hopes up―this whole expedition was a long shot to begin with―but after so many disappointing turn-outs, she had prayed this tree would bear fruit.

Of course, trees don't grow in the desert. It was just a bad analogy, she realized.

"I suppose you are right, Nai'el. Lets head back. Hopefully Urbosa will have dinner ready for us by the time we return."

"I sure hope so, Princess," Nai'el grumbled, her stomach growling like a feral beast who's last meal stretched a little too thin. Admittedly, Zelda felt a little guilty for dragging her out so far out into the barren wilderness for her archeological fancies. Nai'el certainly had better things to do than that.

Which, unfortunately, was why it was about time she gave up on such a useless endeavor.

And so, with a heavy spirit, Zelda and her bodyguard stepped out into the heat of the late afternoon. Nai'el had to set a slow pace for the Princess to keep up, which she was quite grateful for considering she had to stop frequently to catch her breath and sip from her waterskin. Castle stairs and corridors were one thing, shifting dunes another entirely.

It didn't help that her legs were sore already from the previous days making the same roundabout trip. Nai'el had suggested they take Sand Seals, but considering she struggled to ride horses with much proficiency the Princess couldn't even imagine attempting to tame such unruly beasts.

No, her own two feet would just have to do.

With a little push of willpower, the Princess persevered, and within the hour they were well within eyesight of the far off Gerudo trading post. However, the sight was not exactly a welcomed one, as one might come to expect in such a harsh and unrelenting land of rock and sand.

"Can we avoid the Bazaar?" Zelda asked bleakly, knowing _who_ likely awaited them there… At least, she hoped Link was camping up there―like she ordered him to―and not stalking their shadows like a ghost. Zelda had kept a keen eye on their backs in case _he_ was following them.

She could only hope, though.

Knowing Link, he probably got himself into more trouble trying to sneak into the village! When would that infuriating Knight ever learn to not stick his nose where he wasn't wanted? Why was he so insistent on hounding her like a dog on the hunt? Surely duty alone couldn't drive someone like _that_ to such extremes, seeing how little they agreed upon one another.

"I suppose we could," Nai'el grunted, her tone a touch far from pleasant, but not pointed either. She clearly had a distaste for the idea, but given curt her answer, it seemed only for personal reasons alone, so she kept her fussing to a minimum. "We have more than enough water and time. But why…?"

"Its just a precaution," Zelda said evasively. "I'd like to get back to the village right away. I don't feel much like interacting with…"

"With men?" Nai'el gave a sort of snort. It was more in line with puckish amusement than with disgust. "I don't suppose I understand it, I find those odd creatures quite interesting―they're a little fun once you know your way about them―but if that's what you want…"

 _Well, one man in particular, not men in general,_ the Princess wanted to say, but she kept that thought to herself.

It would have been an understate to say she wasn't interested in seeing her Appointed Knight. Hylia knew when she'd get him off her trail again if he found her out. It was a miracle she escaped him the night before on Vah Naboris. The safety of Gerudo Village was here only sanctuary from that persistant hound.

Which reminded her… she needed to give Urbosa a piece of her mind! It was like that _woman_ was playing on Link's side just as much as hers! Zelda just couldn't believe the woman, honestly. We're they not trusted friends? What happened to the unspoken alliance among womenfolk… the bond of sisterhood?

"Well," Zelda declared, determined to press on with haste. "Lead the way, Nai―"

The Princess never managed to get the full name out before she was hushed ice cold. Zelda had never Nai'el crouch and tense up like she did in that moment, spear drawn close and eyes scanning their surroundings with such chilling scrutiny. To Zelda, she seemed like a venomous snake posed to strike its prey in a fatal flash, a forked tongue tasting the air like it was rank with poison.

"Get low, Princess," she hissed in that hoarse voice of hers. "Look there." With a sinewy finger pointed westward, Nai'el marked out two figures pressed against an outcropping of reddish crags and boulders, bows resting in their hands with steel tipped arrows knocked and ready.

When the stranger's saw that they had been spotted, they made no attempt to hide any further. In fact, they almost seemed pleased to have been found out, their heads whirling and chests rising and falling with twisted laughter.

A frightful tension twisted around Zelda's chest, making it hard to breathe. She distinctly recalled every description of Yiga Clan garb she had heard from her father and Knights of the realm, and the men they stared at now wore the same. From head to toe they wore red and black, with masks painted in the symbol of deceit. The False Eye. The crest of the fallen Sheikah clan.

Zelda had to work saliva into her mouth to moisten it before she could even asked fearfully, "what do we do?"

"For now, we run. Go!" Nai'el's iron grip was sure to leave a bruise on Zelda's arm, but that was hardly of consequence. Her heart was beating far too quickly to notice the pain. And it only beat faster when she saw their pursuers set chase like hellbent Lizalfos, laughing and cackling like arrogant drunken fools hunting easy prey.

Over windswept dunes and jagged rock Zelda and her bodyguard climbed like madwomen, and down the other side they ran with all the speed they could muster. The shifting sand beneath their feet made it difficult to keep a steady footing. More than once Zelda stumbled forward on herself and would have gone face first were it not for Nai'el's guiding hand, but even with their best efforts, the distance between them and their assailants grew narrower and narrower.

"There's more than two," Nai'el shouted, harsh amber eyes glaring over her shoulder as if she could cut them down with a mere glance. In truth, she probably could have handled them just fine were she by herself, but considering she had to look out for them both, their situation was dire. And it only grew worse when an arrow whistled above, and buried itself in Nai'el's shoulder.

The tall Gerudo woman cried fiercely as the barbed head dug into her flesh, and in a tumbling mess of limbs and body she teetered forward and fell in the sand. "Run Princess," she barked, stumbling to her feet once more, sparing only a moment to snap the arrow in two. That brute of a woman was terrifying when angered, but in pain… Goddesses above she looked possessed by malice. "Run to the Bazaar and don't look back. I'll deal with these mongrels."

Zelda did not possess the courage to disobey.

And with a heart half beating itself out of her chest, the Princess ran as fast as her legs could carrier her. She ran and ran until she could hardly breathe, and never looked back. All she could do was pray Nai'el would survive long enough for her to get help.

There were guards stationed at the Bazaar! She just had to reach them.

But a high-pitched laughter dashed all hopes of escape. Zelda didn't know when the Yiga had descended upon her, but they had done so without breaking a sweat. With two ahead and one closing up at the rear, she was helplessly surrounded. She had no weapon; she had no escape… she had no one to protector her.

As surely as she was in life, the Princess felt utterly useless and incapable in the coming of death.

She closed her eyes in terror, unable to look up at her assailants as the sounds of curved blades being drawn from their scabbards. This was the end of it all. So many emotions coursed through her mind; fear, anger… even regret. Goddesses above there was so much to regret.

How damned she felt to be so clear minded in a time like this. It was as if time slowed just long enough for Zelda to recall her greatest remorse's. Her failure to serve her kingdom, her failure to protect her father. Their last hopes were laid deep within her―in her survival―and now she was going to disappoint them all in one last fatal failure.

The Princess thought certain her heart would give out before the Yiga's blade ever met her neck.

It was as sure as the sun rising in the east. No one could take the burden of her birthright after her. No one could unlock the Sealing Power. No one could beat back the coming Calamity, all because her death was but moments away. She had doomed her people.

Despair threatened to swallow her whole.

But the Yiga's blade never came down upon her neck. There was no pain. There was no sudden ending or blinding light ushering in what lay at the end of life. All that came was the ringing sound of steel set against steel, and a dull thump of a lifeless body collapsing on the ground. The Princess could hardly believe it.

Was it really him?

Zelda's open eyes confirmed her suspicion, and in no small way did the Princess stare in awe. _Her_ Appointed Knight stood watch over her with his blade draw true and proud, a fierce determination alight in his blue eyes, but not a word on his lips.

And yet, she had never seen such life and vigor in his face.

For the very first time ever since she had met him, Link seemed human. Terrifyingly human. There was no illusion. No stoic, unchanging mask. Just unbreakable, steadfast determination. It was no wonder the remaining Yiga ran like cowardly dogs. That boy could have stared down a mountain and brought it to its knees in that moment.

 _And_ all she could think in that moment… had she been entirely wrong about him?

After everything that had passed between them, all the horrid things she said to him… the way she yelled at him, the way she spited herself against his every action… Link still risked his own safety to protect her. He pursued her day after day, he dragged himself away from a normal life just to tend to her safety.

It was true he had done the same before, in a way, with the rogue Guardian, but back then she was so sure everything would have turned out better if he had not intervened… A decaying Guardian laser and a blade through the neck were two very different things, but he acted on instinct, and with frightening efficiency too.

It was terrifying realization to have the veil of her childish hatred to be pulled away from her eyes, but for better or worse―the Princess certainly could tell yet in her moment of panic―the truth became dreadfully apparent to her. He had risked his own safety for her. He had killed a man for her. There in the dirt beside her, lay the lifeless corpse of her would-be assassin.

And it turned her stomach with more emotions than she could count.

When at last the Yiga had gone, Zelda couldn't bring herself to look into Link's eyes anymore. He had every right to be angry with her… she felt shameful, cowering from his penetrating gaze. But the bearing weight of his eyes never came. Neither did harsh words.

Wonders among wonders, her Appointed Knight knelt at her side, and said, "You're safe." Zelda didn't know why or how, but Link's voice seemed so… _concerned._ She was sure she misheard it. He _had_ to be furious at her… if she had died under his watch, he would have faced the whipman's post, Hero or no Hero―perhaps even worse than that―but he didn't even sound angry. His words were soft and comforting.

It didn't make sense.

"Come on, let's get you inside." Zelda didn't realize how shaken she was until she tried to stand, but firm hands caught her before she could fall. Her heart stilled raced, her breathing was desperate and haggard, and the world around her seemed to spin and swirl like a top.

She had never had a panic attack quite like this before.

* * *

The Princess must have zoned out for a long while; everything flew past in a blur outside of recognizable time. When Zelda finally felt awake from her dazed state, the sun had already dipped beneath the dunes, and the chill of night began to sweep through with the winds. A tall elderly Gerudo woman patted her forehead with a damp cloth, muttering in her native tongue, and by her side stood two heavily armed soldiers, their curved swords fastened at their waists just waiting to be loosed.

"How did I get here," the Princess murmured, massaging her temple… _Had_ she always had this headache?

"Don't you remember?" the elderly woman asked, long thin eyebrows rising with concern. She didn't seem to find Zelda's shake of the head very reassuring. "I supposed that can be expected. Shock affects all in different ways. Have you ever seen a man die before?"

Zelda shivered, and shook her head. The elderly woman tsk'd.

"An awful sight, especially for one so young. But you're alright now, Princess. Your Knight brought you here safe and sound."

"Where is he?" Zelda asked before a cup of water was thrust in front of her lips, coaxing her to drink… _Goddess above,_ had she always been that thirsty?

"He went with the others," the elderly woman replied. "Nai'el is still missing. But they will bring her back, Princess. Don't you worry."

"That's if she doesn't escape by herself first," on of the soldiers grunted, with a notable touch of pride. "Nai'el our most skilled fighter short of the Chief. She won't let some Yiga dogs get the better of her. You'll see, Princess."

"But until then, _drink._ "

The Princess could do nothing else but obey. Obey and worry in silence. She worried for Nai'el, of course, but a new sort of worry took root in her heart… A seed that was not planted there before. Perhaps it was just her head still swirling, she thought, but Zelda worried for Link.

Had the world been flipped on its head?


	41. Book 2 Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Winter's Grasp

"Don't know how you Hylians deal with this sort of weather. I don't envy you." As always, Nai'el's coarse voice carried an air of age-brought crankiness, but Zelda had come to find it rather amusing in a way. It reminded her of an old grumpy grandma. She was a rough woman, that Gerudo warrior, but Nai'el was honest and uncompromising. As reliable a soldier as any could be.

Zelda was glad to see her safe and well.

Not that the wound in her shoulder didn't give the woman grief. It made her right side particularly stiff in the mornings, but Nai'el voiced no complaints about that aloud. The way she grimaced when she rose her arm was telling enough.

Luckily, the arrowhead never went too deep in the first place, and the fool that buried it in her met a swift end by her own hands, according to the other warriors of Gerudo Town. Nai'el would make a speedy recovery without a doubt. It seemed she hardly needed Link's rescuing after all.

Not that she didn't appreciate his efforts, though.

In fact, Link had become quite popular among the fiercer spearwomen of the Gerudo tribe, primarily due to his actions on that fateful day of the Yiga attack. Gerudo women always did find combative prowess to be one of the most amiable traits to find in a man, which was quite the impressive statement considering they thought Hylian men to be weak. The Hero―fittingly so, the Princess supposed―was the exception to that rule. He was something of _desirably_ rare make among the tribe.

Their smirking whispers said as much. And, for reason Zelda could not quite put her finger on, that brought a strange emotional sensation… Perhaps it was a lingering doubt in her head, an old grievance… some deep-rooted spite against him. Or perhaps it was something else?

Her head had been spinning with emotions and feelings the she hadn't the foggiest idea how to decipher for the last few days. The Princess assumed it was just symptoms from her panic attack. Everything seemed fuzzy in memory; a wash of disconnected moments that were hard to recall in great detail.

It didn't help that Zelda never could get the full story of what happened from anyone. They must have thought to spare her from the more gruesome details on account of her wooziness. She felt like a new deckhand who had never been tossed around on sea before… The little things turned her stomach.

However, at the very least, what was quite clear was that a great price was extracted from the Yiga Clan that day at the hands of one particular Knight and an angry horde of Gerudo warriors.

As always, Link never spoke a word of it. He was silent, and markedly not wearing the blue tunic she gave to him for the Champions Coronation. At first Zelda thought he must have torn it during the raid on the Yiga camp, but according to Nai'el it was too soiled with blood to be salvaged.

The Princess's stomach soured and churned at the thought of it. Perhaps they were right not to tell her the finer details… she'd never get her lunch down after that. And so, pressing the image of countless dead men from her mind, Zelda focused on the horn of her saddle and the stubborn horse sauntering between her knees.

A chilling breeze brought a shiver among the caravan of Gerudo escorts, and between the spearwomen a whole slew of colorful words were muttered and grumbled distastefully in their native tongues.

"I've never seen snow in person before," one of the younger spearwomen offered, anxiously tugging her thin cloak around her shoulders. "Do you think we'll see snow, Princess?"

"I suppose we could," Zelda answered, tugging at her own cloak. Well… it wasn't _her_ cloak. Link had the foresight to bring proper winter wear and offered it to her as soon as the winds grew harsh. The Princess was grateful for that... _Very_ grateful. A good woolen cloak worked wonders compared to the thing Gerudo-styled garbs. They simply weren't fit for winter in Hyrule.

"You better hope it doesn't snow, Vani," Nai'el said, crooking an eyebrow at her comrade. "We'll be stuck here still spring if it does." A collective groan crept across the caravan, like a gaggle of malcontented children. Zelda couldn't help but snicker a little.

"If these winds and clouds are any sign to go by," Zelda began again, "I believe winter may be upon sooner than anyone would like. It's best we hurry. The first frost may nip at your heels on your way home." It was only and educated guess, however. Purah had some strange system of predicting the weather―some Sheikah drivel about pressure and the tides of the larger world―but even she was wrong more than half the time.

Outside of that, the Princess had only rudimentary understandings of the weather, and even less of an understanding of how to predict it. Storms came and went, like they always did… one could only know it was there until it arrived.

One thing was for sure, though. It was far too early in the year to be this cold.

Naturally, the chill in the wind drove Zelda and her companions to ride a little faster than strictly necessary. They were all eager to find warmth by a large fire and a steaming hearth-side meal, and all that lay between them now was a small forest of old oak trees and gentle fields of yellowing frost-bitten grass. The peaks of Hyrule Castle would be in sight within the hour.

Home… where heavy burdens and a furious King awaited the Princess.

Zelda shivered, but not from the cold. That was an argument she dreaded fighting. Perhaps before her father's temperament could have been soothed with a little time and venting, but she had an itching suspicion that there was nothing that could sway the King's mind on this matter.

But she had made her choices in full knowledge of the consequences. It was a battle she _had_ to fight. It was her responsibility, her song to sing to.

And it terrified her.

"Have you eaten something sour, Princess?" Zelda jumped a little at the sudden intrusion. She had been distant minded the past few days.

"No," she replied, shaking her head at Nai'el. "Why do you ask?"

"You look like you're about turn sick," the brutish Gerudo woman chuckled. "You Hylians are pale, but this…" she pointed to Zelda's complexion, "looks like snow."

"Its nothing," the Princess reassured her, remembering to take deep breaths as she forced her grip to lessen on her reins. "I am just anxious about returning home." Nai'el gave a long, thoughtful hum.

"So is he."

With amber eyes pointed to the head of the caravan, Nai'el marked out a lone horse and rider surveying out ahead with great diligence. It was where Link had spent the entire day, running to and fro, checking the roads and scouting their perimeters for potential danger. He seemed like a soldier expecting to be attacked on all sides and at any moment.

"What do you mean?" Zelda finally asked. "He always acts like that?"

"We Gerudo pride ourselves in our ability to read and understand someone without speaking a word," Nai'el began. "When you're at the forefront of danger, a warrior must learn how to read how their opponent. How they fight, how they move… how they think… For us, it can mean the difference between life and death. You must see between the lines; it's all in the little things, Princess."

"And what of Sir Link? What do you see? What makes you think he is anxious?" _Him?_ Anxious? He was as hard and unrevealing as stone. Surely not.

"He is a hard man to read, yes," Nai'el droned, shrugging her shoulders, "harder still in speech. But he is still a man all the same. See how he rides, Princess. See how often her turns his head to look north towards the castle, even though we cannot yet see it. See how his horse skids and dances nervously. Horses are much like sand-seals, Princess. They are smart animals. They can sense when their rider is weary."

Well. It certainly was something to think about, but Zelda just could imagine Link being anxious. Alert and diligent, yes, intimidating to be sure, but never anxious. Then again, what could she really say was true and untrue about her Appointed Knight? He came to her rescue without hesitation… after everything that had passed between them.

That must have been testement to something. Anything.

"Have you spoken with him…? Since the attack?" For the first time in their short acquaintanceship, Nai'el almost sounded hesitant to say what lay on her mind. A behavior most unfitting of such an imposing woman. "Chief Urbosa fusses about you and the boy incessantly. I am beginning to see why."

"Very… little, actually," Zelda breathed, a nervous knot tightening in her chest. She had not worked up the courage to ask him to forgive her for running off… for behaving like a child, really. Zelda was certain he wouldn't want to hear her apology anyways.

Link never made any demands for her apologies; he didn't even allude to it. No, he just kept on as always, silent and unchanging as stone. It was as clear a sign as could be that he had no desire to hear what she had to say.

Zelda could hardly bring herself to talk with him, and not for the same reason as before. Before it was because she despised him… and now… Now she was just afraid and ashamed. She was afraid of what he _could_ say. He had every right to despise her. She had been rotten enough to deserve it, and yet…

Well. Time always was the best way to heal a wound, some said. Zelda just needed to give it a little more time. Perhaps once they were settled back into the castle, she could attempt to make amends. Until then, he seemed preoccupied with scouting ahead, and she wasn't going to distract him from it.

"Well, Princess," Nai'el sighed, grimacing as she stretched her arm in front of her. "Don't let silence be your only regret. You can see how far _that_ has gotten the boy."

It was a profound statement Zelda had to spend the rest of the trip deciphering, though she never did discover what it meant.

* * *

It was the first winter snow of her life that Amilia didn't spend in a dreary old run-down cottage, and that in itself made a world of a difference. Even in her quaint little servant's room, with walls stained from countless years of lantern smoke and water stains left behind by impromptu ceiling repairs, life was far better and _far_ warmer than ever before.

She thanked the goddesses everyday for that simple blessing. A warm room.

And of course, she voicelessly thanked the man who had ensured she could continue to live out a respectable life in that warm servant's room. After all, he was the goddesses Chosen Hero… he deserved a thanks either way, but the fact alone that _his_ actions affected her in such a significant way was worthy of any gratitude she could offer.

Which was exactly what she intended to do on such a cold winter day.

It had only recently come to her attention that Sir Link and the Princess had returned from their rather surprising visit to the Gerudo Tribe―the rumors and reports had already spread like wildfire among the servants that the King nearly lost his voice scolding the young Hero and Princess―and that meant that there was a quite a bit more laundry to be washed and mended in good time in preparation for them.

A whole bundle of clothing to wash, and so little time to do it, but Amilia cracked on determinedly all the same.

The Princess was one matter―she had plenty of dresses to suit the weather―however Sir Link had very little in the way of clothes. Apparently, he had torn or damaged the tunic gifted to him on the day of the Champions Ceremony when they were out in Gerudo Desert… It was a shame. Such a bright and pleasant color suited him handsomely.

But, until a new one could be fashioned for him, plain old tunics of greys and green would serve him just fine. Amilia made sure to take extra care washing them, they were rather worn down and had their fair share of holes in them.

It seemed being a Hero warranted a few holes here and there. Nothing that she couldn't fix, though.

With a few stitches here and a few stitches there, every loosening seam and hole was threaded shut, and then washed in hot soapy water before being left up to dry. In the meantime, Amilia tended to her other work, which was both plentiful and time consuming. She worked up quite the sweat by the time everything was dry enough to be folded and put away.

It was with great pride that Amilia pressed on with her duties delivering hampers of clean clothes all around the castle, and by mid-morning her calves already ached from climbing up and down countless staircases. Luckily, each door she stopped by to drop off clothes, the closer she came to the apartment of Sir Link of Hateno… just the man she wanted to thank.

Before long, Amilia stood at the threshold of his room.

It wasn't much in the way of thanks, Amilia supposed, just a bundle of neatly pressed clothes, a hand-written note―her _own_ hand, mind you―and one freshly made apple dumpling she snuck out of the kitchen as an afterthought. A modest thanks to be sure, but it made her feel a little better. Her mother always told her it was the intention behind the gift that meant more than the gift itself.

Hopefully that adage still rung true.

With a breath and a shake, Amilia reached out to turn the door handle but was surprised to find that it was locked. Which was rather peculiar. On most days―back before he and the Princess left so abruptly―Sir Link was typically up and well off into his busy day before she even came to deliver his laundry. The door was always unlocked and his room empty… but now?

 _Perhaps the heavy snows have cancelled any plans he had today,_ Amilia wondered. He had just returned from a long journey. He could have been still asleep, yes, but that seemed unlikely. Sir Link wasn't one to sleep in so late, she thought.

Cautiously, Amilia knocked twice, but no answer came. Three more knocks brought little else. She could hear faint shuffling on the other side but there never came a voice.

"S-sir Link…" Amilia hesitated. She worried she had disturbed him. "I've brought you clean laundry. Shall it bring it in or…"

"Leave it at the door, please," a deep voice suddenly answered. It sounded hoarse and sickly, but it was undoubtedly Sir Link. The cold must have gotten to him, as impossible as that sounded. The Hero… sick? Never!

"Very well, Sir, but…" _Well…_ what else could she do? Swallowing nervously, Amilia gathered Sir Link's clean clothes and the gifts she brought with her and neatly placed them at the foot of his bedroom door. For what seemed like an eternity, the young washmaid stood tensely as worries and thoughts ran through her mind…

She wanted to thank him personally, and well, since he was here there seemed no better time… but she did not want to bother him anymore than necessary. Especially if he was ill. To Amilia's horrified surprise, however, her mouth began to move before she could stop to think any further.

"Sir Link…" Amilia bit her tongue. "I just wanted to say thank you… again. For what you did. I… I don't think I can ever repay you, but I brought you a gift. To show my gratitude." Anxiously, she awaited a reply.

Unfortunately, her only answer was a long, dreadful silence.

And it only grew longer still, until the young washmaid lost her courage and ducked away. For whatever reason, illness or otherwise, Sir Link wanted to be left in peace, and she had overstepped that boundary. Cursing herself for her foolishness, Amilia hurried along down the spanning corridors of Hyrule Castle to carry out the rest of her duties.

And so, as the harsh winter outside the castle walls grew colder and fiercer, Amilia carried on as she always did, admittedly a touch put out by the fact that she could not properly thank her Hero in person. A sad reality, but reality all the same. There was no point in fussing over it now. All she could do now was continue to deliver fresh clothes to Sir Link with as much excellence and diligence as she could.

That was her job, after all.

However, there was one thing that began to trouble Amilia deeply… From that day on, she could not recall a time when Sir Link wasn't locked up in his room. When it came time to wash bedsheets, the young washmaid merely found a pile of sheets set neatly outside his door. And when it came time to wash clothes, it was much the same: a neat pile left outside. Nothing else. Not a word or noise.

Worse still, according to the cooking staff, a similarly frightening occurrence was happening. Meals were delivered to his doorstep daily, but it was rarely ever taken in, and when it was the tray returned only half eaten.

A bad omen by every meaning of the word. The only question now was what _could_ shedo?

* * *

Cradled in the corner of his bed tucked against the wall, Link read the same last line of Amilia's letter in his head once more.

The kind girl meant well, he knew that much, but he feared her words were aimed at the man she thought he was, not the one he was in truth. The conviction of her words stung like venom.

If only he could believe what she believed. How much easier it could have been.

Sadly, the realty of the situation was that he could hardly bring himself to get out of bed, much less show his face to anyone. It was easier then, out on the dangerous road when he had something... someone to occupy his thoughts. But now, in the solitude and safety of Hyrule Castle there was no distraction, no way to distance himself from the memories he hoped to forget.

The threat of falling apart was closer than it ever was before, and it was a risk he simply could not take. To crumble now would be to lose all hope of recovery.

He just needed time. Time to let go. Time to heal.

Clenching his fists closed until the nails on his fingers dug into his palms, Link tried to force the pain of his heart out, as if it focusing on that alone could actually make any difference. Perhaps it was useless, but it was better than the alternative. It was better than giving in. One way or another he _had_ to try. To give up now would be a grave disservice to his kingdom... to his mother...

To give up now would be to abandon the Princess to the same crippling fear that hung over his own shoulders.

* * *

Sooo... to get that angst train out of the way...

I swear, next chapter will be better. Think of it as the next arc in this story where Link and Zelda learn to heal their pains and hurts. Put on your optimism hats, ladies and gents, get ready for wholesome progress next time on: What Lies in the Heart of a Hero!

Please dont be mad/sad, I try my best

-Bold


	42. Book 2 Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-four

The First Step

There was no doubt about it now. Hyrule was amidst its worst winter in recent history. With the days cut increasingly shorter, and the storms harsher and bleaker, the picture that was being painted in front of Zelda did not exactly inspire any feelings of hope or optimism. Gazing out from her bedroom window where the sky seemed dull and grey as endless flurries of snow flew by, she couldn't help but recall images from the grim children's stories and old mythologies that littered the dusty bookshelves of the castle library; stories of dark and calamitous times in Hyrule's history.

The weather always was the first thing to go awry, as the stories went. A foreboding message of what was destined to come to say the least.

But there was one thing that such weather brought that was not entirely bad: unusual amounts of free time. Most of the Princess's days were spent alone in library―she and her father had spoken to one another since their last confrontation―which meant that for better or for worst she had ample time for research and reading at her leasure. It was a shame Purah had been caught out up north due to the weather… she could have used a little company. A distraction, really.

Unfortunately, however, even the castle library grew boring after a while. And because of it Zelda knew she was in trouble.

It seemed like the strangest incidence to find herself. She had never grown bored before when there was so much to read and research at the tip of her fingers, but ever since she had returned home at the stormfront of the harrowing blizzards, things just never felt the same. It was if it was harder to relax… harder to forget what waited for them.

Perhaps her father's words were finally beginning to sink in, the Princess mused. Saying he was angry with her would have been an understatement. Furious was more like it! Worse still was how deep his words had cut into her as of late. For all their misunderstandings, for all her father's ill temperament, he spoke many truths. And as she come to find, truths hurt far worse than falsities.

After all, she _had_ run away and nearly gotten herself killed because of it. Were it not for Link, her foolishness would have spelled out doom of Hyrule with utter surety…. As if they weren't doomed already.

And that was another thing that had begun to bother her: Link.

It had been nearly two weeks since they returned from the Gerudo Desert, and since then she had not seen him once. With her father taking his meals alone, the three of them never came together anymore to eat―a fact she would have reveled in her recent past, but to her surprise, not anymore―which made it rather difficult to find an appropriate time to speak with Link…

To apologize…

Her heart raced nervously just thinking about it.

 _Why would he want to hear me out_ , she wondered? It was a miserable thought, really. An idea that gnawed away at her consciousness throughout the dim and grey winter days. But in her mind the answer seemed clear enough; he didn't―or shouldn't―want to see or hear her out.

But she should at least try…

That was the least Zelda could do now. Try, and hope for the best. The worst that could happen would be that he would blow off her apology―a response she was entirely deserving of―or he could accept. And then maybe, _just maybe,_ she could find a way to patch the whole mess together.

That was what Urbosa told her to do, and in a way that what her father told her to do. Accept her responsibility, face the consequences.

If only she could find courage. Even a touch of it would go a long way in helping her now.

"Oh!" Zelda gave a start and straightened up in her chair. Apparently, she had been too lost in thought to have even noticed that someone had entered her room, a young washingmaid by the looks of it.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Princess," the young girl said fretfully with a curtsy that was a touch wobbly. "I didn't realize you were in here."

"Do not worry yourself," Zelda replied, trying on a polite smile. The least she could do was try to appear pleasant, regardless if she was feeling gloomy. "It's not like I have anything better to do. What have you brought up?" The young girl hesitated, as if she herself forgot for a moment, and then with a little hop she pressed into the room carrying bundles of fresh sheets and laundry.

"Just items from the wash, Princess," the washmaid piped. "I can come back another time―"

"No, its fine. Please, come in. I won't be in your way." That seemed to soothe the jumpy maids nerves a little, but she still proceeded with great caution. In an amusing way, the young girl reminded Zelda of a mouse keeping a watchful eye on a sleeping cat. "In fact, I'd gladly welcome the company."

"Really?" the maid replied, not feigning her surprise. "I would have though a Princess like yourself would be all sorts of busy, my lady. Begging your pardon, of course."

"Well, when the weather is as nasty as this, there is very little I _can_ do. I fear I've read myself out of every desirable book… All that's left are dusty old manuscripts. Hardly the sort of thing to cure boredom." The slight look of a smile crept across the young maids face.

"I've only just learned to read, my lady," she said with a modicum amount of modest pride. "I think I could find just about anything interesting to read."

"Is that so?" Tucking her legs underneath herself to keep them warm, Zelda cozied up into her settee so that she could give the young woman her full attention better. This had been her first _interesting_ conversation in a while. "What has been your favorite book so far?" she asked.

The young maids smile grew even larger and shed all notions of shyness.

"The Tales of the Minish," the maid declared. "I just love how wonderful and fantastic those stories are. Its feels like I'm in dream just thinking about it; I imagine myself walking about the forest when I'm no bigger than a thimble, and―" Suddenly the young bit her tongue.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, my lady," she said, wiping at her forehead as if she were about to break into a sweat. "Look at me just dawdling on, I should get back to work." With an timorous scrunch of the nose, the young washmaid bundled up her laundry once more and began redressing the bed.

"I like those stories too," Zelda chuckled.

"Really?" the maid asked in disbelief. She had such a young spirit, Zelda realized. It only seemed natural she would find such children's stories so interesting. _The Tales of the Minish_ wasn't exactly what one would call _traditional_ literature. Not that it mattered, Zelda loved those fairytales as much as the next child.

"My mother used to read them to me." It seemed odd now to think of her mother. It felt like a lifetime ago when she lost her―the pain of that experience long since grown dull―but what she _did_ remember meant the world to her. And apparently that was an emotion that was easy to read on the outside, for the young maids expression drifted to a sort of melancholy evenness.

 _But my,_ there was something rather familiar about her…

With a cute button nose and a face that seemed just in the early stages of womanhood, it was actually the timid expression on the washmaids face that at last reminded Zelda where she had seen her before… coincidentally in a situation surrounding a similar subject.

"I remember you," Zelda exclaimed after a long and terribly awkward pause. "You came to me one night with Sir Link." And apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, for the poor girl's face went whiter than the snowstorms blowing outside. She remained so frozen that Zelda though she might begin to shiver.

"I-I did… P-princess," the maid sputtered. "I am so _very, very_ sorry about what happened to your lovely dress, I swear it really was an accident!" Something deep in Zelda's heart panged with old anger, but she took careful steps to snuff it out. What was in the past needed to stay in the past. Otherwise she would grow to be a temperamental as her father. Worse even!

"What's done is done," Zelda sighed. She would have to learn to forgive Link someday for that accident... as much as she hated to admit it was an anger she still harbored. _Time_. Yes, she just needed time to do it. She owed him that much and much more. "Hylia knows we have all made mistakes. Especially me. We must learn to work past them."

"I think that's very wise of you to say Princess," the young washmaid replied after a profoundly long pause, and with surprising confidence too. The girl had some courage after all it seemed. Zelda humored herself with thoughts of the young girl teaching her how to find courage for herself.

"A compliment I cannot accept, but thank you…. You know, I never quite got your name, Miss…?"

"Amilia, my lady."

"Ah. It is a pleasure to meet you properly, Miss Amilia… when I am not at the end of my temperament." Zelda felt a little embarrassed saying that. If she didn't know any better, her cheeks were probably flush with color.

"Its _my_ honor to meet _you_ properly, Princess," Amilia said sheepishly, dipping into another wobbly curtsy. The girl was oddly fixated on straightening out the front of her dress even though there was not a wrinkle or crease to be seen. A nervous habit, perhaps? The poor girl certainly had a hard time meeting her eyes. When she wasn't talking about reading, that is.

Not so much now, though.

With thin lips curling, Amilia seemed like she was on the verge of speaking again, and at one point her mouth even hung open to do so, but for all her struggling all she could manage was a single word. And it was hitched at best. "Princess…"

The poor girl looked like she was about to suffocate.

"Yes?" Zelda's interest was piqued. What did this young girl have to ask that had her tied in such worrying knots?

"Its… well… I wish to say… or what I mean to say is that… I think this is a perfect chance to meet you." Zelda craned her head to face Amilia right and center, her curious sensibilities running wild.

"And why is that?"

"There's something I need help with… and I think you―begging your pardon of course, Princess―can help. At least I can hope, if you'll permit me." A thin smile crept across Zelda's lips. Amilia really did seem like a frightened little mouse.

"You have my attention, I'm all ears, dear."

"Well. Its about Sir Link." At that Zelda's eyes grew a little wide. What did the _she_ have to say about him? After all the gossiping that had gone around, a statement like that warranted concern. It was no small thing to say the Princess was deeply intrigued.

"I know it is out of my place to say…" Amilia began, "but I would feel awful if I kept it bottled up, but―I know you two haven't exactly gotten along in the past―seeing what happened with your mother's dress and such…"

"What's in the past is in the past, Amilia," Zelda reassured her thinking back to her mother's dress that was ruined, full heartedly hoping to leaving the subject where it now belonged: forgotten.

"Well… its not that Princess…" Amilia looked like she was on the verge of fainting trying to hold in what ever was on the tip of her tongue. She was a most peculiar little thing. "I am worried… For Sir Link."

"Worried?" The silence that followed was pressingly palpable.

Working up her courage a second time, Amilia said, "its just… No one has seen him in a long while, Princess… he's been locked up in his room ever since you returned from the Gerudo Desert. I think he's sick."

"Sick?" _Link? Sick?_ That seemed almost comically impossible. "Has he requested a physician?" Amilia shook her head nervously. "Has anyone made inquiries?"

"Only the cooks and I have," said Amilia. "But he always turns us away. Trays are left for him at his door, but they are rarely taken in. And his laundry is always piled up outside his room for me to take." The young wash maid took a terribly deep breath.

Zelda couldn't quite understand why the girl would be so worried about him. He wasn't exactly one to make friends…

Amilia's eyes were now fixated on the tips of her shoes, where her toes wiggled fretfully. For one reason or another, the young washmaid was genuine in her worrying, that much was clear. So, the question now was what to do with this information?

"I know you and Sir Link haven't seen eye to eye, Princess," Amilia spoke again. "But I believe he is a good man. I truly believe it. I just want to help in some way. I owe it to him to try."

Zelda took a long, thoughtful breath.

"So, you are in debt to him as well?" Amilia's eyes shot up with surprise, but eventually she nodded. "I'm sure you heard about what happened in the Gerudo Desert. Sir Link acted valiantly to keep me safe. While myself… I have done nothing to deserve such dedication. I too would like to thank him. And to offer an apology."

Hiding a thin smile, Amilia nodded her head eagerly and asked, "so, Princess, what do we do?" Zelda smiled too, though it was a smile of cautious hopefulness.

"Well, I think our first step should be…."

* * *

Carefully guiding a razor under his jaw, Link meticulously cut away the scraggly whiskers that had begun to grow in a disorderly fashion. Sir Hamish never stood for unkempt hair of any sort. It was either clean shaven or a well-oiled beard. No exceptions.

And well, clean shaven suited him better anyways.

So, off the whiskers when. And when his work was done, Link examined the pale face looking back at him in the mirror. He could hardly recognize it anymore, though not because it had changed physically― _not very much at least._ No, it was what lie beneath the skin that had changed into something else.

Into what he could not say, but it was no the same face he once knew.

But why should that worry him, he wondered? The answer was it shouldn't. It was just another consequence of the world he lived in, and there was no point in bellyaching about it now. He had done more than enough of that.

Focusing on a single a single knot in the wooden top of his dresser, Link took careful, calculated breaths. Times like these called for careful breaths. It emphasized control. Discipline. Keep your breath calm during a battle and you kept your head.

And he couldn't afford to lose that. Not yet at least.

Not until they dealt with Ganon…. Goddesses above, if the even _could_ deal with the Beast. The depictions scattered across the halls of the Temple of Time didn't exactly paint a very hopeful picture. Thousands upon thousands of Guardians… the Divine Beasts… and at the center of it all a worthy Hero and Blessed Princess. Even with all _that_ they barely won those ten-thousand years ago.

Was he doomed to die, he wondered bitterly? How disappointed his mother would be if he did that? His father? Emotion welled up until it hurt.

 _Master, your heartrate has increased at an alarming rate._

Something twisted in Link stomach. It had been a while since he had heard that voice. And yet he could not tell if he was overjoyed to hear it, or angered. He hardly knew what to think anymore it seemed, but it did seem odd that he could hear _that_ voice even when the Master Sword was not in his hands.

 _I suggest a recourse in meditative breathing to―_

With a shudder, Link forced the voice out, and slowly peeled back his fingers from digging into his palm. Where his nails had sunk in only dark marks remained now; the pain of it had stopped long ago. He would just have to make sure to wear gloves before he went out―

A sudden noise caught his attention, like the fluttering of paper. With a watchful eye he scanned the room and found the source of the noise. A note had slid between the crack of his door and the floor. Link examined it curiously before breaking the seal and reading it contents comprised of neat and delicately written words.

And in all honesty, he was surprised by what he read.

* * *

With each breath, thick clouds coalesced in front of Zelda's mouth. She could only hope she didn't look nervous, but considering how she had handled herself as of late, that seemed a little unlikely. She shivered, and not entirely from the cold.

But, it all came down to this moment. She had to try irregardless of what could come next.

All the Princess could do was pray and hope for the best. And when she heard the loud creak of metal door hinges opening into the calm cold of the winter night, she felt as if half the battle had already been fought. "Sir Link," she said, trying to sound braver than she really was. "I wanted to talk with you... about what has happened between us... and to apologize."

Were it not for the slight tilting inclination of his head, Zelda never though she could have read the surprise on his face.

* * *

I hope you are all ready for the fluff... because its gonna get pretty fluffy up in here.

And I for one am looking forward to writing it ;)


	43. Book 2 Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

A Break in the Storm

It was a wonder among wonders that the snow had stopped for so long. Not that the Princess was complaining. Far from it, really. Without the winds that inevitably came with snow, standing out on that lonesome castle balcony in the frigid late evening was remotely bearable, especially with the neck to boot length cloak she wore wrapped around her, trapping in the much-needed heat. A shiver still passed through her bones every now and again, though.

That she couldn't help entirely.

Link, on the other hand, seemed nearly impervious to the cold. Wearing little more than his usual attire, and a coarse woolen cloak, he stood unshaking and peered out endlessly into the darkening world of Hyrule, where the chimneys of Castle Town pumped out little strews of smoke and the murky windows fluttered with warm light from candles and lanterns and well-tempered fires.

It was a peaceful night in Hyrule.

Well… peaceful for the towns folk that is. Zelda herself was rather hard-pressed to not tie her own stomach in knots fretting about this and that. More than ever before, Link's eerie silence made her mind run wild with nervous thoughts. _Will he accept,_ she wondered? Goddesses above she hoped he would. Much more of this silent nonsense and she feared she would lose herself along the way.

Between her father, the isolating weather, and the looming responsibilities of her station, Zelda was― _admittedly―_ in need of something… or someone to find common ground with. Perhaps it was some childish pride within her that hurt the most to admit it, but she was so very lonely. Purah, the Champions… not even her favorite court bard was around to keep her company; Milos had family to attend, after all, and winter had a habit of keeping people far away and locked indoors.

And to think the grasp of winter had only just begun to strangle Hyrule.

"Thank you, by the way." The silence was too unsettling. She had to say something. Link tilted his head ever so slightly to her, seemingly in his own way of asking, 'for what?' He was a man of few words through and through. "Thank you for coming to see me," Zelda explained, and Link nodded slowly.

"You're welcome, Princess." His tone was neither soft nor hard. Strictly down the middle, she'd say. Swallowing nervously, Zelda began her reply.

"I must admit," she said, "I was surprised when one of my laundry maids came to me with concerns about you this afternoon. You seem to have had quite the effect on her. Amilia was eager to deliver my message."

For lack of words, Link inclined his head.

"If I'm honest, I think she's rather soft on you; girls that age are quite impressionable, you know. She was very worried you were sick, but…" Well, he seemed healthy enough. Perhaps his nose was a little red from a common cold, but he showed no other signs of illness. Odd, she thought. Amelia didn't seem like the type to over worry or overreact. Why _was_ Sir Link so confined to his room these last few weeks?

"I am well, Princess." For some reason, Zelda didn't quite believe that. However, now was not the time to press. She would have to find out another day…. Eventually.

"I am glad to hear it," Zelda answered, perhaps a touch timidly. It felt odd―and rather awkward―speaking to him on such polite terms. She couldn't remember the last time she was very civil towards him before the accident in the Gerudo Desert. "And I'm sure Amilia will be glad to hear that as well. You will speak with her, won't you? She wants to thank you for something; she didn't seem keen on sharing what _it_ was, but its not my place to intrude, I'm sure…"

Zelda fell silent. She was babbling on. Goddesses, she could only hope she didn't sound as nervous as she felt.

"She is a kind girl." Zelda was surprised to hear him say that. "I will be sure to seek her out, Princess."

"Good. Thank you…" Zelda swallowed nervously again. This was harder than she thought, and they hadn't even really begun. "Well… I suppose I should speak my part already." She laughed weakly, hoping to ease the air, but it didn't soften anything. Not that the tension in the air was hostile―she knew that feeling all too well to misidentify it now―but there was still a tension. An awkwardness.

"First I must thank you properly for what you did in the Gerudo Desert. Your bravery and dedication will not go unrewarded, I promise. The Gerudo, and myself especially, are grateful for your integrity. But it is the circumstances that brought that situation to be which I am most concerned about." So far so good. She had spoken just as she had rehearsed all day.

Still, she still felt anxious to have it all out. It was such a delicate situation; any misstep could spell failure.

Surely, Zelda thought, if she tackled this like a logical, _rational,_ scientific individual things would go easier for her. At least, she hoped it could. 'A clear head is a clear tongue,' her father once said, though Zelda hardly ever felt like the most eloquent speaker, even when she was confident in the subject matter. Keeping her father's words in mind, she tried to clear her head of any distraction.

"As I said before, I wish to first apologize for the way I have treated you." That was a good start, she hoped. "I behaved childishly and pushed my problems on to you. I spited you, sought to abandon you, jeopardized your good standing as a Knight of Hyrule. It is no excuse so say I once felt justified in lashing out at you at every turn because I had been dealt a disservice… by the world… by the goddesses. But there are words I cannot unsay and actions I cannot undo. There is only the future. You have shown me how wrong I was. It wasn't fair, nor was it appropriate for someone in my position."

Zelda allowed herself two deep breaths.

"Now I know I cannot expect you to accept my apology―you have every right to deny it―however I do ask that you will give me the chance to start over… to try again. We have had our fair share of differences and misunderstandings, Sir Link, but I would like to put that all behind us and start on a clean slate."

Pushing aside all fear and nervousness as best she could, Zelda turned to face Link head on. Even in the chilling breeze of winter she was certain she would break out into a sweat. What he said next however, broke that nervous sensation in two.

"You speak as if I have not been at fault as well, Princess." Zelda gave a start. That certainly wasn't a reply she had expected, and apparently her bewilderment was plain as day to see given his curious glance. It was with a faint tilt of his head that Sir Link explained himself, and with no small amount of deep forethought.

"Far be it from me cast all blame," Link said lowly with a note of somber finality. "These last few months have been a trial, Princess, _that_ I cannot deny anymore. And though I strive to act according to the orders of the King, I find myself entirely incapable…" _Wonders among wonders_ , Zelda was sure he hesitated. It was a surreal sensation hearing him speak this way. "It is to say; I have not acted as I should. You have harbored anger against me just as I have harbored anger against you, Princess."

Zelda swallowed in hopes of working moisture back into her mouth. This was quite the change from all their previous conversations.

"I suppose," she said palely, "I shouldn't be surprised to hear you say it outright―you have never been an easy man to read or understand, Sir Link…" She took a deep breath. "But I am deserving of whatever anger towards me you have." If only her first revelation in understanding just _who_ the man behind the stoic mask was wasn't such a negative thing. What a regrettable feeling _that_ spawned.

"But that does not make it right." With a sound akin to a sigh, Link leaned forward, and rested his hands on the stone railing in front of him. A peculiar show for a man previously so rigid and disciplined. "These past few weeks have taught me that much. If you say you are a fool or that you are childish, then I am the same, Princess. I hardened myself against patience and understanding because of my anger. I didn't want to see your side of things; it was easier that way. It wasn't until Urbosa knocked any sense into me that I realized that."

"Urbosa?" Zelda dreaded to her what that _woman_ had said. For a Gerudo, she had no tact for secrecy! She could only hope Urbosa hadn't told him any of the embarrassing things.

"She can be as hard and unruly as the desert she calls home," Link declared, "but she is also sympathetic. And very good with words."

 _Oh goddesses, she did tell him the embarrassing things._ If Zelda wasn't sweating before, she was now.

"Yes," Zelda piped as timidly as a mouse. "She can talk your ear off once you get her started."

"Nearly pulled mine off. She is a stubborn woman."

Quite without warning a laugh bubbled up in Zelda's chest. Perhaps it was just from the nervousness, or perhaps it was from the image of Urbosa pulling on Link's ear like a mother would with their child, but either way the Princess had to slap a hand over her mouth to stifle a most undignified laugh.

"I am well aware," Zelda agreed, a strange relief beginning to settle over her. "She's always been like that." Contemplatively, Link nodded slowly, almost as if the notion was amusing in some way. Of course, there wasn't any sort of smile on his lips, but the way his cheekbones lifted and eyes squinted ever so slightly made his features appear… softer somehow.

She had never seen that face before, but she rather liked it.

It was rather a long time until Zelda realized she had been staring at him for far longer than what was considered normally appropriate. A bit of an awkward realization, really. The prolonged silence didn't help either, but at least it wasn't as tense as it was before. Perhaps, she thought, a little humor _could_ go a long way in smoothing out conversations unexpectedly.

"So…" Zelda took a deep, collective breath. "We both have regrets in the way our relationship has panned out."

Link nodded.

"I could go on for hours about the things I once felt. The frustration. The spite…" Zelda opened her mouth to continue, when Link surprised her by interrupting her with a small wave of his hand.

"But there's not much sense about speaking of the past now," he said, and quite confidently too. Hope began to swell in Zelda's chest. "If it seems good to you Princess, I should like to forget the things I once thought and believed. I should like to accept your apology. But on one condition."

"Yes?"

"You must accept mine as well."

A smile began to tug at the Princess's lips, and it was with a glad heart Zelda said, "I accept." _Well,_ she thought with a relieved sigh. It went far better than she could have hoped. True there were bound to be things down the road that would need to be addressed―she would have to work extra hard to crack open that stoic shell of his further―but this was the first and most important step. And it needed to start right.

"Well," she said. "Since we are leaving the past in the past, shall we start from the very beginning then? Formally." Link's brow rose questioningly. Offering her hand to him as was custom of a first meeting, Zelda dipped down into a neat curtsy. "I am Princess Zelda, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Link. I pray we will find a genuine sense of comradery in our time spent together."

It was only a short pause until Link bowed in kind, crisp and uniform as a disciplined solider in formation.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess. It will be my honor to serve you."

"Serve me?" she mused. "No, from now on, we must act as equals, Sir Link. Hylia willing, friends even. We have a long and dangerous road to travel alone, its best we go together." Once more Link's features softened, and Zelda admired it as his answer.

A man of few words he truly was, but in a way, it was beginning to grow on her.

* * *

I'm finally back! Sorry for the longer wait, I just finished moving into a new apartment! I'm sure some of you know that moving is a rather time consuming activity, so I hope you'll forgive me. Also I wrote this chapter twice because I just wasn't happy with the first attempt. I won't lie, this one was hard to write because there's so much that was leading up to this moment and I wasn't happy with how things were fitting together.

I can only hope this draft fits and satisfies you all. I'd love to hear your criticisms.

Anyways, thanks for reading! I'll see you all next time.

-Bold


	44. Book 2 Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Little Things

The mid-morning sun painted a lovely color in the sky on that calm winter day. It was one of those rare days that brought about a break in the snowstorms as of late, and the Princess sought to take advantage of such a rare opportunity. Besides, what better time to excuse herself from her daily duties to work on something more… important?

"Do you enjoy the outdoors, Sir Link?" It had been one of many inconsequential questions she had asked that past hour, but inconsequential or not, Zelda's Appointed Knight remained a peculiar mystery. True to his nature, he was a very silent man, perhaps not quite in the same way as before, but Link was particularly hesitant when speaking of himself. His pauses were longer, his sentences a touch guarded. She had never known him to be a man of a stumbling tongue―at least not until recently―but there were subjects and topics that became clear he'd rather avoid.

Naturally, _those_ were the very subjects she pressed to learn more.

It was all scientific, of course; learning about Link was much like learning about an elusive animal. Move to fast or press to hard and you'd run the risk of scaring them off or setting them on the defense. A situation like this called for slow, calculated analysis, and no small amount of tact. Zelda was up to the challenge, though. In fact, it was rather fun.

"I do," Link finally replied, his attention turning away from the frost-bitten trees and pillowy mounds of white snow blanketing the castle gardens. It wasn't the first time she had caught him staring at nature like that; a look of silent admiration.

"Why is that?" Zelda pressed on, a warm tone in her voice. It still felt strange to speak to him in such a manner, but it was a good kind of strange. Link thought for a moment too long, however, so Zelda, in keeping with the idea of strategy, rephrased her question. "I find nature to hold a certain beauty," she said, "in every season. On the surface things might seem simple―easily taken for granted―but down to the roots in the soil there is life bustling and bursting. What do you find interesting about nature?"

Link's head tilted ever so slightly as he considered her words. "The quiet," he said simply.

Zelda's intentful glance questioned him for more, and surprisingly he gave in, almost reluctantly. "Its peaceful out there… where the gravel roads end and grass begins. No crowded and loud streets, no hurried servants and jumpy soldiers. Just the gentle breeze, the rustling of the trees…" He paused and his gaze grew distant, as if he could imagine such a place in front of him. "And the chatter of the wild animals."

His eyes softened as they had done a lot lately. It seemed to be his way of smiling. "Even in a winter like now, between the storms, there is a certain peace about it." As if to prove his point, Link turned his ears to the little garden that surrounded them. Zelda did the same, and focused her attention on the sounds of winter. As he had assured, there was nothing more that the gentle wind, and the soft rustling of leaves still grasping onto their anchors despite the cold. No chattering animals, however, which was a shame.

"Well spoken," Zelda said softly, exhaling alongside each breath of wind that rolled by. If only it _weren't_ so cold. Even bundled up from head to toe, she couldn't help but feel the occasional bite of winter. Her nose was surely glowing red already, and Lini was assured as dawn to fuss about her catching a cold. All the same, Link did have a point. It was very peaceful here out in the open. "I suppose it only makes sense. You're a country man through and through, if I may say so. Do you ever miss home?" At that, Link made a funny face. In his sort of way that is. A little crook in the brow or a turn in his lips were his most common expressions.

"I…" Again, he hesitated to answer, and it made Zelda all the more curious. She just couldn't get a read on the man. Beneath the surface their were so many complexities in his manners, and none of them were easy to read. Trying to figure him out was like stabbing at the dark. "I suppose I do."

"You suppose?" she teased, and his funny face grew funnier. Perhaps it was cruel, but she was finding a bit of enjoyment in figuring out her Appointed Knight. What buttons would she press next, she wondered?

"I'm not sure I can call Hateno home… Not properly. I was only there for a few years."

"Well, then do you miss your―" The Princess bit her tongue. Perhaps, she thought, she should slow down a little. Link's history with his late father didn't exactly seem to be a very open topic, even for a normal person. True, there was much she wanted to know about his time he spent in the estate of Sir Hamish, but there needed to be a sense of trust before she could venture that far. "What I mean to ask is do you miss your old life there… in Hateno?"

Zelda took a breath. She narrowly avoided that one.

"I suppose."

"You know, Sir Link," the Princess deadpanned, "some people might think your curt answers are rather impolite. You _are_ allowed to elaborate. I know I would like to hear more of what goes on in that head of yours." Zelda could have sworn Link harrumphed at that.

"May I ask why, Princess?"

"Why what?" she replied. Had she not known any better, Zelda thought she was nearly getting a rise out of her stoic Knight, which had fascinating implications.

"Why you are so interested in what I think?" His tone was forcedly flat and unaffecting. Very typical of Sir Link of Hateno.

"Why wouldn't I?" A thin smile worked its way on to Zelda's lips. "We've spent so much time together and yet I know next to nothing about you―which was my fault, of course―but the fact still remains that you are a mystery. And _I_ am curious by nature, you know. Besides, you promised me you would try opening up a little."

That last part wasn't entirely true, but the Princess wasn't going to admit that right out. They had promised to start anew… as friends. But a part of being friends was being open with someone, naturally, so it was six of one half a dozen of the other anyways. Luckily, Link didn't argue it, although he did shrug his shoulders, committing himself to silence.

"And don't think I'll let you out easily, Sir Link, I can be quite determined."

"I was aware," he replied.

"I daresay that had a bit of cheek to it," Zelda chuckled, "don't tell me you have a sense of humor locked away too." Marking her victory, Zelda's Appointed Knight did not muster up a rebuttal. _Very well._ No one said they would break down every wall in a day. Time, Hylia bidding, would be more than enough to bridge the gap between them.

She'd whittle that man down eventually. No one could truly be _that_ serious all the time.

"All the same," the Princess began cordially, "as far I am concerned, home can be wherever you _feel_ at home. If you say you never felt Hateno was your home, then I believe you, but if you say it couldn't be… well. What does your heart tell you, Sir Link? Short as it may have been, do you _feel_ that Hateno Village was a place you could call home?"

Link gave his due thoughts. "Yes. I think I could have."

"Then, I pray that once this whole Calamity business is dealt with you will be free to call Hateno home once more." Strangely, Zelda didn't find any positive response to that statement in the faint ways of Link's expression. Not even a nod could be roused from him…. Had she said something wrong?

Perhaps it was time to take a break from her incessant prodding. There always was tomorrow.

"Well, Sir Link. As much as I admire the fresh air and beauty out here, it is quite cold. Shall we turn in before we catch something?" Stirring from whatever distant thoughts she had sent him into to, Link nodded sharply, and accompanied Zelda through the stone archways that surrounded the castle gardens. With a few corners turned they found themselves once more inside where warmth from nearby hearths cut down the cold of winter.

"Would you like to join me for dinner again?" she asked, sparing a quick glance over her shoulder. He still to held true to the strange habit of trailing her instead of walking beside her like most people would. Zelda would have been lying if she said it didn't feel a little strange, but then again, why would he think to act otherwise?

It was just another step she would have to take to correct.

"If you wish it, Princess," Link declared. Zelda hummed with dissatisfaction

"I do," she admitted, "but I want to know if _you_ would _like_ to. I would hate to force you into anything. If you have other plans, I of course understand―"

"I would, Princess." His answer was plain and simple, but it made Zelda's heart glad. Pulling back the lengths of her cloak, the Princess allowed a nearby ladiesmaid to scoop it up into her arms to be carried off.

"There's also lunch to be served soon," she added hintingly.

"I'm afraid _that_ I will have to decline, Princess."

"Oh?"

"The King has requested my presence to his council meeting," Link answered. Surprisingly unenthusiastically too.

"How odd. What would he want from you?"

"I am as unsure as you, Princess," Zelda's young Knight answered. "Though I cannot imagine it will be something pleasant."

"What makes you say that?" Was Sir Link nervous, she wondered? That seemed almost impossible, he had faced down Yiga marauders unflinchingly, what could her father ever do or say to shake him?

"Gut feeling, I suppose." Link's tone resonated with honesty. And searching her own feelings revealed a similar reaction. The King was a very busy man, it was rare to be called upon by him―unless you were _in_ his council of course―for reasons other than to be scolded or given very exact orders. Praise from him was a rare thing.

"Well, I hope whatever it is isn't too serious, Sir Link. I heard you got quite the earful the last time my father called for you… We both did." That was a scolding she wouldn't soon forget. Although, according to the whispers among the servants, her Appointed Knight received equal reprimands from the King, if not worse for the incident concerning the Yiga.

"There are worse things than hard words, Princess. I am sure that whatever your father wants with me there is for good reason."

"Reason can be a far thing for my father to reach when he is angry, Sir Link," Zelda murmured.

"Be that as it may, the King is determined to do the right thing for Hyrule. It is not my place to complain or disobey."

"A king's word can be a double-edged sword, Sir Link." Through it all, a king was like any man or woman: flawed and imperfect. Even the wisest could be a fool, and Hylia bidding, the foolish could speak some wisdom. Zelda had to believe that otherwise she feared she would never find even a hint of wisdom within herself. "Consider them carefully."

With a thoughtful pause, Link eventually nodded.

"You will let me know how things go, yes? I would like to hear what the King and his council wants with the dubbed Hero of Hyrule. With winter making prisoners of us all I am eager to hear _some_ sort of news from the outside world." Bowing neatly, Link agreed, though hesitantly.

As always, his goodbye was short, bordering curt, but it did not bear the same tenses as it once did. Through one way or another, Link _was_ loosening up a little. And at this point, any improvement was welcomed wholeheartedly.

By springtime, Zelda swore she'd have that boy talking like a poet! The question now was just how to do it. Maybe Mipha would know how to get him to talk. They had known each other since childhood, surely the shy Zora Princess has a few tricks behind the fins.

* * *

Drumming fingers against his armored forearm, Sir Alaric scanned the empty chairs of the Council Hall. Sir Link would be present today, and considering how the upper echelons of the King's council were on edge already, he didn't think the boy would have an easy day ahead of him.

Nor an easy winter.

Hero or no Hero, Sir Link was still a Knight. A Knight raised from commonhood, and that meant there was bound to be certain… _discriminations_ among the council.

Faint ringing echoed throughout the stone cavern that was the Council Chamber, signaling the eleventh hour of the morning, and right on que the doors creaked open, admitting a crowd of Knights whose' hairs were gray with age. Not a single youth was among them for all but one exception.

How out of place that boy looked; a golden head among a sea of gray. Though with that Sword on his back, Sir Alaric doubted he would ever blend in anywhere anymore, even among men his own age.

"Thus begins the forty second session of the King's Council," the Council Secretary announced as he always did judicially, meticulously ordering and shuffling a neat stack of papers and plenty of good ink to write with on the small table before him. "May Hylia find justice and wisdom within these halls."

As each elderly Knight found his place among the Council table, the King pushed thin spectacles higher on his nose and with a small sigh, arranged his own papers between creased fingers. He seemed tired today, which was nothing new as of late, but with the frigid weather and lacking sunlight the King emanated an added air of duress and impatience.

Winter was like a prison in Hyrule, some said, prone to sour the mind of even the most patient men.

"We have much to discuss today, gentlemen," the King said with a gruff voice. "But before we begin, I would welcome a quest to our council this morning. Sir Link of Hateno, as you know him, the bearer of the Master Sword." Gray heads turned to the foot of the table to gaze at the boy standing there.

Credit was due to the young lad. Even under the weight of their eyes, Link hardly seemed like a man near the edge of nervousness. Then again, he was an excellent pretender.


	45. Book 2 Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Council

Being far older and a good bit more weathered than his peers, the slow and aging Knight of Windvane Valley had found himself to be in quite a peculiar position on such a cold winter's day. He was a mediator at heart―the voice of reason between heated parties―and had mediated and guided younger men for years longer than his elderly wits could remember; certainly since days when his hair wasn't quite so thin and white.

But, on a day like this, finding ground on which to stand and guide seemed a fickle thing indeed.

It was by no means a secret that Knights of lesser age came to him for insight, after all they were the ones that nicknamed him Sir Baren the Wise in the first place. However, in times like these, Sir Baren couldn't help but feel a little stumped himself. After all, when wishy washy things such as prophecies and fate were tangled into the argument, logic and reason seemed to have a fond disposition of kicking itself out the door.

'Hero this,' and 'Hero that,' Sir Baren's peers complained. They were all so meticulously focused on that _boy,_ and there didn't appear to be much he could say to cool their tongues.

It was a shame they couldn't have brought bearer of the Master Sword under their careful watch sooner. He seemed like a fine lad by many accounts―there were a few ill rumors here and there, but he was careful to ignore gossip―however if Sir Baren knew anything it was that young men with responsibility like _that_ could be crushed and swept away in an instant, leaving a bigger mess behind than when the whole thing started unless they could be brought under wing and guided.

 _I should have urged the King sooner for this council meeting,_ Sir Baren thought to himself with a glum sigh. The other Councilmen were sure smother that boy from Hateno like an insect. Especially after the whole Yiga debacle. But there was nothing that could be done to change the past now. They were here at last, in the dead of winter, three months ahead of schedule for the annual Grand Council…

"If I may speak my part, Sir Baren," a groggy looking fellow said with a cold cough.

"You may, Sir Garen," Sir Baren replied, gratefully nodding to his companion who had the civility of not pushing in and interrupting where he pleased. Sir Garen rubbed the tip of his nose and coughed again before he began.

"The way I see it, Sir Baren, is that this _boy_ is an _unknown_ to us. Most of us with domains outside the castle walls were too busy in the summer preparing for the coming winter to come and _see_ this 'Hero.'" Sir Garen moved wondering eyes to the other Knights around him, searching for their support. He didn't have to look far, they all felt the same. "We cannot say what sort of man this Link of Hateno is. He could be a cheat… a liar… a lowly thief even. He is a common farm dog, you know. At least, that's what I heard. Who is to say he can be trusted to serve and protect the Princess and her honor?"

"I would speak carefully if I were you, Sir Garen," Sir Baren replied in a low voice. "Remember that it was the King himself who gave the position of Appointed Knight to that _boy._ He would not be so foolish to allow a man like that to shepherd his daughter."

"How can we say that for sure?" Another Knight barged in. Even though it was but a whisper, the words were sharp and clear in Sir Baren's ear. It made him cringe. An idiotic thing to say in the first place, and Hylia bless it only grew worse. Sir Lancel always a quick-witted man, but his tongue lacked a civility.

"The King is prone to rash decisions when he is stressed," Sir Lancel continued in a low raspy voice. "He never was as calm and logical as the late Queen."

"Be that as it may," Sir Baren said with a bit of a bite, "speaking of what was will now help us with what is now. And you go too far to question the King's understanding, Sir Lancel. He may have a temper, yes, but he is no fool. He cares too deeply for Princess Zelda to hand her safety off to a man unworthy of Knighthood. And bless it all, you gentlemen are forgetting the most important fact; the Master Sword."

Sir Garen, Sir Lancel, and the third Knight, Sir Deric, all made a sort of grunt in their throats. Hylia alive they could be frightfully insubordinate at times!

"I have yet to see this Master Sword yet, Sir Baren," Sir Lancel said and then with a sort of low grumble he added, "there is far too much I have not seen with my own eyes. And until I _have_ seen _it_ and the man that wields the Blade to Seal the Darkness, I will continue to guard my mind from foolishness. I simply do not trust this boy!"

"Then you would do well to keep your tongue quieter, Sir Lancel," Sir Baren hissed, turning his comrade away from the open antechamber to the Council Hall. Unfortunately, Sir Lancels's words echoed anyways, loud for all to hear. Undoubtedly loud enough for the man in question to hear.

"You would not want to look a fool in front of the Hero if he _is_ just the sort of man the prophecies speak of, now would you?" Sir Lancel glowered at the tips of his boots, the tails of his bushy mustache twitching as his lip curled. "No, you wouldn't. So until you have seen and heard from this _boy,_ I suggest you keep strong feelings to yourself."

"Why do you side with the _boy_ so, Sir Baren?" Sir Deric asked, rubbing that bulbous nose of his. "You have not met him either."

"No, you are right, I haven't," Sir Baren agreed with a huff. "But the King has, and I trust his judgment. Am I saying you must give in a bow down to this boy and welcome him like a grand savior? No. I am saying you must exercise caution. Do not be too quick to dismiss the boy's legitimacy, he could be our only hope if―"

Abruptly the ringing of bells echoed across the antechamber before the Council Hall, signaling the eleventh hour of the morning and consequentially the beginning of the Council Meeting.

"Well," Sir Baren sighed. "Just remember what I've said. Proceed with caution, gentlemen. Guard your tongue from things you may regret later. And for Hylia's sake, give the boy a chance!" Of the group, only Sir Garen seemed very keen on following that advice.

The countless wooden doors surrounding the inner chamber of the Council Hall swung open, and in an orderly fashion, nearly fifty of Hyrule's chiefest Knights began to shuffle in and stood beside the chairs laid out for them around the long table before the King himself. What whispers remaining among their numbers died out as each man came to his spot and sat, and when only silence could be heard, the King himself rose.

"We have much to discuss today, gentlemen," the King said with a gruff voice. "But before we begin, I would welcome a guest to our council this morning. Sir Link of Hateno, as you know him, the bearer of the Master Sword."

A long, heavy silence crept upon the Council Hall as all eyes turned to the foot of the table where a singular young man stood. Sir Baren had to admit, the lad didn't seem like a particularly intimidating force… he was rather short, and his build could not be described as anything more than lean.

But he did have a strong gaze, that was for certain. He did not shy away from their judging eyes, and stare at his toes as most boys that age would.

Silence continued to dominate the room like a formless shadow, and it became quite apparent the bearer of the Master Sword had nothing to say. No greeting, no thanks… nothing. Which meant he was either ignorant of the proper proceedings of a Council Meeting, or willfully rude. No doubt the Council would find him guilty of the latter.

Someone had to speak up, still, and rather out of turn the King broke the silence that had gripped the Council Hall so tightly.

"It is proper procedure to thank the Council for its summons, Sir Link," the King said, waving off the offense unconcernedly.

"Forgive me, my King," Sir Link replied, bowing his head seriously, "I am unaccustomed to Council procedures. Sir Hamish never saw it fit to teach me such things." Whispers spread among the chairmen of the Hall, but it was the graying Regent of the Romani Plains that stood to speak first. Sir Ector was his name, and per council conduct, he looked to the King for permission to speak.

The King nodded.

"So, it _is_ true?" Sir Ector asked of the golden headed Knight at the foot of the table coolly. "The late Sir Hamish was your mentor?" The boy seemed almost confused by the question. Though his face was smooth and unchanging, it was his eyebrows that gave away his unknowing curiosity. "I pray the King will forgive the Council," Sir Ector suddenly claimed turning back to the King, "you know as well as any how rumors and twisted news can be spread among the Kingdom. Especially during winter times when word travels slow."

"Did I not inform you of this?" the King asked in a monotone voice. "Was word not sent to every man among my council?"

"Word _was_ sent, my King," Sir Ector replied in a subservient tone; Sir Baren could note the tense caution in the man's voice quite distinctly. "But a Knight can never be too careful. Many truths and mistruths I've heard these last few months concerning this matter, it is hard to tell when a man lies about his… _upbringing."_

"Sir Link speaks truth, Sir Ector, you have my word," the King said with a grunt. "I did not bring him here so you could accuse him of dishonesty." Abruptly at the other end of the table, another Knight rose, and awaited for the King's approval to speak.

"If I may, my King, what is the nature of this meeting concerning Sir Link then? We are your council, _my King_ , let us counsel. Let us see and hear from the boy himself. Have him prove himself before us so that we might make informed decisions."

 _That was very brash,_ Sir Baren thought to himself, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. In his old age, even sitting made his bones creak and throb.

"You are asking for proof then?" The King posed the question with a dangerous manner, no doubt he was well past impatient long before the Council Meeting had even started. One didn't have to know the King well to see _it_ in his eyes… in his wrinkled face. Though, the King never seemed a patient man to begin with. Not anymore at least.

"My King, if I may?" Heads turned back towards the head of the table, were a Knight not much younger than Sir Baren himself now stood. His name was Sir Elric of the Kolomo Garrison; a seasoned veteran through and through. Naturally, the King was quick to give speaking rights to him.

"Thank you, my King. Sir Ector―and a good many more Knights―ask your majesty for proof of this boy's claim." Sir Elric's careful gray eyes scanned the room like a hawk on the hunt. He found its prey in the form of a young golden-headed boy. "And Hylia willing I believe I should give it."

The King's head titled with surprise, though he did not open his mouth to ask questions.

"What the boy claims is true," Sir Elric began. " _That_ in itself is an easy fact to prove. A simple enquiry from our close allies in Zora's Domain can tell as much, or the widow of Sir Hamish more over, and if any had the minds to keep such memories, this boy has walked among us before, on the day of the late Queens funeral, may she rest in peace. Of course, he was but a child then."

Something about Sir Elric's inflection interested Sir Baren. He spoke so mysteriously

"However," Sir Elric, continued, "there is more to this story. Though I had deemed such knowledge as something necessary to keep within a small group, I believe it is time all truths be brought before the Council. As Sir Ector proposes, the Council _should_ have all the information before them to advise wise decisions―"

Sir Elric paused, accounting for King's impatient lingering gaze, and shortened his speech as such.

"The short of it is, my King, is this: Are you aware that this boy is the illegitimate child of Sir Hamish?" For the second time in their short meeting, an eerie silence strangled the Council Hall. A knife could have cut the tension hanging in the air. Some Councilmen exchanged surprised glances between themselves, others focused their attention on Sir Link himself, and fewer still stared at the polished table beneath their drumming fingers.

It seemed word of this… _impropriety_ was known in a small group indeed.

"I was aware, Sir Elric." There was a defining finality to the King's tone, which warranted little argument. "But I must ask you, should this change anything?" Sir Elric did not answer. "Do you wish suggest Sir Link should give up the very weapon the goddess Hylia deemed him fit to wield? Shall I unknight him?"

"I alone am not suggesting anything, my King. It is the unified Council that will do that―"

"And you are a part of that Council, Sir Elric," the King interrupted. "I will ask you to not waste my time dancing around the issue with words. If you have something to say concerning my decision regarding Sir Link, have out with it." That was certain to ruffle Sir Elric's feathers, but the gray Knight did not show it in his face.

"By all accounts, my King, I cannot deny this boy is the _true_ bearer of the Master Sword. There was never doubt in my mind about that, especially now that I have seen that very sword on his back. But I find it hardly acceptable to Knight a common man, much less the bastard child of one of our own. It goes against every custom our order is based upon, my King."

"If you feel so strongly, Sir Elric, then tell _that_ to the man himself." Whether from surprise or unsureness, Sir Elric hesitated at such a suggestion. But after a moment, he _did_ turn to face Sir Link. Wonders among wonders, the boy hardly seemed fazed but such weighty allegations. He was either harder than stone, or simpler than a village donkey.

However, Sir Baren had no reason to believe he was simple. The way those sharp blue eyes scoured and calculated the world around him silently did not denote slowness of any sorts. Which meant he was the former. A bastard child he might have been, but Sir Link was no common man either.

"What's say you, Master Link?" Sir Elric said, eyebrows furrowing. "I kept your father's secret for nearly fifteen years, and I would have kept it to the grave till now. I kept it on the agreement that Sir Hamish would do good by our laws and take you in as his Ward. But now he is gone, and here you stand. A Knight who has no right to the title. This, naturally, breaks our laws. You are the prophesized Hero, yes, but you are still a bastard. And I cannot abide casting blind eyes to our code of honor, not even for you."

For a long while, the young man seemed to ponder Sir Elric's word. If they angered him, there was no telling for sure; any signs of emotion had surely been locked under that stony face of his now. He spoke as plainly and evenly as any man could.

"Since I was a child in his home Sir Hamish taught me what I am, and what I cannot be, Sir Elric," the boy said. "I was never given the choice, just as I was never given a choice to carry this Sword. What choice do any of us have in service to the kingdom?" A smirk slipped through Sir Elric's lips.

"So, you never wanted to be Knighted in the first place? Strange. I would have thought every young boy in Hyrule would dream of Knighthood."

"Dreams and reality are two very different things, Sir Elric."

A very stoic man, that Sir Link, Sir Baren thought. The rumors about that had certainly been true. You could have squeezed more out of a boulder than out of that boy. Not that it was an entirely bad thing. Sir Baren knew far to many men could talk your ear off and never say anything of importance. He could appreciate a man who only spoke what he intended.

"I would like a straight answer from you, boy―"

"Sir Elric," the King sighed. "Leave it be! I will not budge on this matter. I have knighted Sir Link because he is to be our champion―the peoples' symbol of hope. Do not think you can suggest I take away that title because your sense of honor cannot reach past your biases. The code of honor has been stretched far further and far worse in our past." Shifting in his chair to address the rest of the Council the King spoke loudly once more.

"And that goes for the rest of you. My word is final. It would be wise that you refer to the title Sir Link has earned. Now if there will not be any further interruptions, let us begin with the real problem at hand.

"I've received word from out allies in the desert that the Yiga are amassing once more under the protection of winter. Now, Sir Link played an important role in flushing them out the first time, but that was before the snowstorms. And since Hyrule cannot offer aid currently…"

And just as quickly as the issue had come, it had gone away. For the time being at least. No, if Sir Baren knew any better, this wouldn't be the last issue the Council would take up against Sir Link. Like many things, bastards, common men, and prophecies had the keen ability to work them all into uneasy knots. And considering Sir Link had a hand in all three… Well.

It would be a long session indeed.

* * *

See, it wasn't as bad as you thought... hopefully!

The question now is, what will little ol' Zelda think, hmm? I guess you'll just have to find out next time ;)

Also in case some of you haven't hear, BOTW is officially getting a follow up game! I cannot express how excited I am, I've watched the trailer upwards of twenty times now. I cannot wait! So, do yourself a favor and go watch it if you haven't already! I'd love to hear y'all's speculations and what you think might be the story for the next game.

Adios,

-Bold


	46. Book 2 Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Something Worth Noting

Sitting alone at the head of her father's table, Princess Zelda couldn't quite help but feel a little… disappointed, and perhaps, in some sense, a little irritated. Although she stuffed out that emotion quickly. After all, it wasn't like _he_ was her slave to answer her every call, Sir Link had a life and obligations to see to. Still, he _had_ said he would join her for dinner. Which should have been served an hour ago.

Her plate sat empty and untouched in front of her. The kitchen staff was sure to be grouchy about that, they disliked having to keep dinner delayed, it kept them from their other duties.

With a sigh stemmed from boredom, Zelda tapped the cap of her pen against her chin thoughtfully, turning over to a fresh page in her diary. Her father never allowed her to write at the table, he said it was rude and unbecoming of a princess, but with no one around in that colossally empty dining hall, who would come and stop her? Its not as if the footmen would bat an eye at it, they surely did not care either way.

For a short while she thought on what she was going to write, arranging her words in her head in great before they ever left the tip of her pen. She always had to write as such, otherwise she'd be sure to make mistakes that looked ugly on the page. It always was a pet peeve of hers, messy writing, it made reading and recalling important notes further down the road far more difficult than it needed to be.

Purah felt strongly the same in that sense, though that madwomen never seemed to keep notes decipherable to normal folk. She was an odd specimen to say the least.

That aside, Zelda posed her freshly inked pen on the first line and made her first mark on paper only to stop mid stroke to slam the book shut for the very man she intended to write about suddenly entered the room. Hylia above if he ever saw the contents of that diary…. She had mind to burn the whole silly thing.

As always, Link entered the room with purpose, each step seeming calculated and sharp like a marching soldier, however this time she couldn't help but notice the eerily blank expression on his face. Which was an odd thing to notice―Sir Link always was blank-faced―but for some reason it seemed different than from any time before. It had something to do his eyes, it was if they were distant and lost in thought. A silent man, Sir Link was, but he was never absentminded before.

All the same, when Zelda rose from her chair his attention returned, and he stopped at the foot of the table, bowing deeply.

"I apologize, Princess," he said with a hint of urgency. _Urgency!_ It truly was odd to see him in such a state. "The Council kept me far longer than I had anticipated. I came as soon as I could." Whatever faint sense of irritation coiling in Zelda's head from before vanished at those words. Of course, he wouldn't have made her wait intentionally, it was foolish to have thought it in the first place, but it was reaffirming to hear his reasons.

"Its quite alright," Zelda replied, carefully sliding her diary off the table and into the seat of her chair. Link didn't notice, or at least pretended not to. "Whatever reason the Council had for dragging on this long must surely be important. Would you tell me about it? I must admit I am interested to hear how the kingdom fairs this winter. You know how slowly word travels in the storms of winter."

After a thoughtfully quiet pause, Link finally nodded, though he never moved to sit down. His sharp blue eyes scanned merely the empty table beside her as if to make sense of it. "I hope you did not wait to eat on my account?"

"Ah. I did, Sir Link," she said in a tone that harbored no unfriendliness. "I wouldn't be a very gracious host if I did not wait for my guest."

Eyebrows furrowing strangely, Link dipped his head briefly. "You shouldn't have, I apologies."

"Think nothing of it, Sir Link, I was happy to wait," she assured him warmly, ignoring the gnawing in her stomach. "Dinner can be so boring when one is alone, yes? Well, let's not worry about it anymore, we're both here now and I am starving."

Moving aside to the far wall where a long-braided chord hung down from the wall, Zelda gave a tug on the service bell, and within no time at all two footmen arrived carrying fine silver platters. Despite having waited well over an hour the food sizzled and steam as if it had just been freshly cooked. How the kitchen staff did it, she'd never know, but they never disappointed when it came to a warm dinner.

The savory smells of simmered meat wafted past her nose, and for a moment she worried her stomach would growl because of it. Luckily, not a sound was made as she made her way back to her seat. Zelda was surprised to find it was Link that pushed her chair in behind her and not one of the serving footmen, but he seemed to think nothing of it, crossing to the other side of the table to take his own seat.

It wasn't the first time he had done so―Zelda assumed it was just a habit he learned when he lived in his father's estate as the family Ward―but it never ceased to surprise her just a little. Most Knights left that job to the footmen under normal circumstances, it was only natural, though he didn't seem to think much of it.

When they had both taken their seats and their plates were served with all manners of delightfully warm food that was sure to warm their bellies on such a cold winter's day, Zelda dove right into the endless list of questions she had thought up while she had been waiting for Link's arrival. The poor boy looked like a wild game at the business end of an arrow, ambushed in his moment of vulnerability, fork floating between his plate and opened mouth.

He looked absolutely famished.

"So, did you find out why my father request your presence in his Council Meeting? I've never known him to bring in any 'outsiders' before." Eyeing his fork as if it were an opportunity missed, Link lowered his hand and spoke only after a good deal of thinking. Zelda admittedly felt a little bad for pouncing on the man so quickly.

"Its hard to say why exactly," he answered. "I suppose there are several reasons." After that Zelda was sure to give him ample time to take a bite and enjoy it. Patience was key with a man like Link.

That said, it was rather comical watching him eat, in a trivial sort of way. It wasn't that he was boorish or bad mannered at the dinner table, but for a man so small he did seem to have an appetite. This was a far cry from the frugal scavenger she had seen him be when they were out in the wilds of Hyrule, and especially far from whatever bout of sickness had him locked in his room for days earlier that season.

She'd be sure to note that in her diary later…

"What sort of reasons?" the Princess finally pressed on once he had finished his first mouthful. Link paused. Hylia be blessed, that man would have learn eventually that conversations called for explaining one's self fully. They had turned over a new stone together, but that didn't mean there were not things he did that were nothing short of frustrating.

Luckily, he graced _this_ question with a full enough reply.

"For one I believe the King wanted his Council to meet me," he finally said. "That or the Council did." That made sense, after all most of them came from far away places, this would be the first time they could have seen the bearer of the Master Sword in the flesh. They held Council Meetings only once a year, after all; three months early in this case. There was sure to be gossip spreading around the castle faster than usual. A horde of Knights lodging in the castle meant that there was bound to be new manservants and squires tucked away in every corner awaiting their masters' call, intent ears listening and mouths ready to share what rumors they had heard.

Hyrule Castle was sure to be buzzing with activity for the next week or so, quite the rarity for the season.

"Seems you are a popular man these days," Zelda said teasingly. "And what did the King's mighty Council think of the dubbed Champion of Hyrule?" Oh they were sure to be a little unsure of such a man as Link―prophecies and such drivel did rile them up easily―and there of course was the fact that he was a common-man made Knight, which would unnerve them even more, but Link was _the_ Hero after all, and that counted for something.

His answer, however, painted an entirely different picture.

"I do not think I will find much support from among them," he said in a noticeably flat tone… _forcedly_ so,if she could have guessed. Zelda shot him a concerned expression. "But you needn't worry yourself over it, Princess."

"I would think I _should_ worry about it," Zelda replied earnestly. "After all, we are partners in this, neither of us cannot succeed without the other, at least as far as the prophecies are concerned. Why shouldn't the Council support you?"

 _Well…_ there was one reason that they would feel as such, but that worry was a small voice in the back of her mind. Were Link's lineage drawn into question, there would undoubtedly be no small amount of outrage among their ranks. A common Knight was one thing, a bastard another entirely. Zelda could have sighed. There were some things bound to draw the line for stuck-up old Knights in the King's Council, Hero or no Hero.

"The Councilmen have a mind of their own, Princess. I am not their ideal solution to their problems."

His tone was surprising, it carried a sort of soft solemnity, almost as if he could pass it off as fact. And Zelda was sure she could see Link deflate in his chair a little. Was she so bold, she might have even thought him to look tired… worn down?

And _frustrated?_

"Well, this problem does not concern them, it concerns the entirety of Hyrule." It was meant to be an encouragement, but Link sank even further into his chair, and this time she was certain of it! It was rare show of emotion for her stoic Knight to say the least. Quite naturally, Zelda took a softer voice when she continued speaking, hoping to coerce truth from his sealed lips.

"Though I might have no right to say it," the Princess continued, "considering not long ago I was equally judgmental, _I_ think you are Hyrule's ideal solution. If the Sword chose you, Sir Link, then who are we to question the goddess?"

To that, Link had no reply. He merely stared distantly at the food on his plate before shoveling in another bite. And another. And another, still without a word or sound. It was a profoundly different silence than what Zelda was used to; it wasn't a silence that was forced but more as if his mind was elsewhere entirely.

For nearly a whole minute he sat there in deafening quiet till Zelda stirred him.

"Sir Link?" His eyes flickered, and within a single breath his attention returned, and once more he seemed in control of the stone mask covering his expressions. He waited expectantly for her to speak, which she did after a time. "I wish you would tell me what goes on in that head of yours. You are a profoundly mysterious man."

"And you are a profoundly curious woman," he answered surprisingly quick. Perhaps a little quicker than he intended to, given the way his mouth clenched shut. Zelda couldn't help but grin a little. This was her opportunity to press the advantage.

"I cannot deny that. Which is precisely why I wish to seek your mind out, Sir Link. You are an enigma the likes of which I've never seen, I have every intention of figuring you out." Wonders among wonders she swore the man shied away from her gaze!

Well… perhaps ' _shied away_ ' was not a good term to use. There was hardly anything shy about the way his intentful eyes passed from one place to another, but there was no mistaking he could not meet her gaze in that usual unaffecting way of his. The Council Meeting must have given him a good shaking.

Reveling in her small triumph, Zelda took the opportunity to eat a few bites, more than happy to let the silence _she_ created fester for a while, and she only spoke again when the time felt right.

"The food is to your liking, yes?" It was more of a rhetorical question, really, Zelda could tell already. Link's jaw froze mid-chew for a comically short moment, his fork already skewering his next bite.

He nodded.

"I can tell," she chuckled warmly. "You must have been starving." To that Link shrugged his shoulders as he chewed, as if to dismiss the idea of being susceptible to such a human thing as hunger, though she wasn't quite convinced he had meant to do it on purpose. "Do you have a particularly favorite meal?"

"A favorite meal?" he repeatedly curiously, a thoughtful gleam in his expression. "I suppose I like a good warm stew… with steamed rice. And fruit cake."

"Fruit cake?" Zelda gawked. Wonders among wonders the boy looked stumped by her tickled surprise. Of course, it was such a trivial thing, but something about imagining Link enjoying a sweet desert like fruit cake made her want to laugh. It made him seem so human! "Well then you would love the cake our resident bakers make on Winter's Feast day."

Link's ears noticeably perked up and Zelda couldn't help but grin with satisfaction. He reacted just as she had hoped.

"I believe you are in luck Sir Link. We are but a few weeks from then, I'll be sure to let the kitchen staff know to prepare their best. They would be elated to know what the Hero of Hyrule has to say about their baking."

"Why would they―" Link's words died off, either by choice or because he lost grasp of whatever he intended to say, and instead refocused on his dinner. At any rate, there was no denying the faint look of eager anticipation in his surprisingly expressive eyes. The case was cut clean and clear. Sir Link was a bonified glutton!

"Speaking of the Winter's Feast, I hope you know you will be expected to attend. It's nothing too serious, typically only the neighboring Knights and Ladies attend, if the weather permits. All the same, we'll be expected to socialize and celebrate in observance of the coming new year."

Link's lips thinned.

"Don't give me that look," Zelda jested. "Socializing isn't particularly my strong suit either, but we'll weather the storm together, Sir Link, I'm sure of it." Of course, in all honesty, she wasn't sure how well Link would handle it. Considering the Council Meeting seemed to give him a good thrashing, something as nuanced and… _delicate_ as a social party was sure to flip her silent Knight on his head.

"You can dance, yes?"

"Its been a long while, but yes," Link answered, and surprisingly he had more to add. "Sir Hamish thought I should learn in case I ever needed to escort one of the ladies of estate to a gala or ball… I never thought it'd be of much use to me anymore."

"It is a skill that will serve you well for as long as you are within these halls, Sir Link. Hyrulean nobility never strays far from tradition, of which dancing is one." Evidently, that proposition was something Zelda's Knight put a good and long thought to. It was obvious in the way his pondering expression drifted off into a distant gaze.

It was to her honest surprise then, that Link asked a rather difficult question to answer.

"How long do you think it will be? Till Ganon returns?"

"You are worried you will be stuck here for years to come?" Zelda asked, and with a bit of time her Knight nodded in reply. Of course, it was perfectly natural to feel that way, Hyrule Castle never was his home. It was sometimes hard to remember that _he_ had a life and a home far away before the Master Sword chose him. Perhaps it was because she never knew him before he was _its_ bearer, before fate moved him with its invisible hand. What sort of life did he leave behind, she wondered?

Was he happier then?

They were sobering questions, really. And, in many ways, quite sad. It was difficult to imagine Sir Link being sad, there was always such resolve and stoicism in his manner of being. It was that line of thought drove her to ask a rather bold question.

"May I ask you something personal?" she said almost in a hushed voice. Link considered her with careful eyes, but eventually he nodded. "Why _are_ you so quiet all the time? You clearly do not have a slow tongue, far from it really, but I can't help but wonder why you choose such controlled silence."

For a long while he contemplated her question, Zelda could tell it was difficult for him to say, but with a little time he finally answered.

"There is too much at stake, Princess," he said solemnly. "It is my duty to bear any burden in silently, without complaint. Your father gave me rank and title in hopes of bolstering _our_ peoples' faith. I am to be their symbol and shield. I cannot betray their trust."

It was so simply put, and yet Zelda found that she could decipher its significance on a personal level. It was a pain she knew all to well: the guilt of failure. The unspoken fear of disappointing those who put their trust in you. Zelda couldn't find an effecting outlet to vent these fears save lashing out at others, but for Link, the simple answer to that fear was to simply keep his feelings and thoughts locked away. He was chosen to be courage incarnate… how can courage itself have fear?

And therein lied the problem.

"I see," Zelda hummed companionably. "Thank you for sharing that with me. I assure you, I will keep your secrets safe. If I may hope that you will keep mine." She was glad to see those calm blue eyes of his soften and his head nod thoughtfully.

It was far more progress than she could have hoped for in one day.


	47. Book 2 Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The Ballad of a Lovestruck Bard

Dusting off snow from his knees down to his boots, the indominable Milos made his triumphant return to Hyrule Castle, having at last finished his march all the way from Kakariko Village, his home. It was a long and tiring journey through the windswept dunes of white blanketing the Hyrulean countryside, but it was also a beauty to behold, in an enigmatic sort of way. Winter made the land a mysterious place, both quiet and singular yet bursting with opportunity and inspiration around unexpected corners. All one had to do was put on their warmest clothes and venture out to find it.

And coincidentally enough, inspiration had found Milos out there in the frigid hills of Hyrule Field.

Already his fingers yearned to feel their way across the strings of his many instruments, to pluck out the soft melody ringing in his head, but in that moment his body ached more for the warmth of a roaring hearth and a belly full of good food. Four days he a trekked in the freezing wild with a heavy pack on his shoulders, and that made him vulnerable to a whole list of ill things…

And it would do his singing voice no good to catch a cold now. _No good at all!_

Milos, being the Court Bard, was to be expected to sing on a night like tonight after all, and he hated the idea of disappointing his dear Princess. She had once told him that his music was one of the few reasons she could even enjoy such parties―Zelda wasn't exactly a social butterfly as one might expect―which was reason enough to dedicate himself to the task full heartedly. To see her emerald eyes flash with delight, to watch her lovely lips break into a smile was like…

 _How to put it,_ he wondered? Surely there was a verse he could think of that would describe her beauty well and true. With a warmth in his heart-beaten chest, he thought some more on the matter till an idea came to mind.

 _Seeing her smile was like seeing the sun peak over the mountains in the east,  
her rays adorn like silver and gold, catching the slopes like sapphire in a brilliant light,  
casting her beauty aglow…._

 _Well_ , perhaps that was a bit over kill; compliments needed a little more carefully crafted nuance and eloquence as to not seem insincere. No, _his_ Princess was far to humble in character to accept such lavished words; at testament to her goodness. Of course, he couldn't say such things in public anyways, not unless he wanted to incur the wrath of the fledgling young Knights of the land who would vie for her hand come her eighteenth year.

Naturally, Milos changed the nature of his verse to have a more general message, to sing of Hyrule's beauty, and not that of his Princess alone. He could only pray _she_ would decipher its true meaning, the motivation behind his lyrics. She was so very sharp, the foolish Bard had confidence she would understand.

But that was a thought for later. For now, he needed warmth and food. And right on que, as he stepped further into the lower quarters of the Castle Kitchens, he was met by a short yet sturdy welcome.

"Oh Milos," a grandmotherly voice sighed, followed by a strong grip latching onto his right arm. The Bard recognized it as none other than the old Misses Latuna, the head Cook of the Castle kitchens. A stout woman, she was, though she hardly came up to his chest, and quite the stickler for schedules and punctuality. All the same, she was also generous and hospitable.

Just the sort of woman you'd expect to run such a warm kitchen.

"Hello Misses Latuna," Milos said dashingly, catching his breath from the sudden change in temperature. "It smells lovely in here, almost as lovely as you."

"Oh, stop it you," Misses Latuna hissed, though with a wide grin and squinting eyes. "You'll get no sweets from me for false flattery, Milos. Save you honied words for the Princess."

"Come now Misses Latuna," Milos said, feigning distress. "I've come all the way from Kakariko through this nasty weather. Can't a man have something warm to eat and drink?" Misses Latuna rolled her eyes at him―she never was an easy woman to impress―but to his delight she led him by the arm into the heart of the warm Castle kitchen and sat him down on a small stool tucked in the corner.

It smelled faintly of warm bread and fruit cake. Milos couldn't help but sigh with relief. The bakers always made such wonderful fruit cake.

"I've only got bread to feed you right now," old Misses Latuna said, scouring through a large wicker basket which was covered by a thick linen to trap the heat of the countless steaming rolls beneath. "The rest is for the party _which,_ need I remind you, starts in an hour! You better double time it, boy, otherwise you'll be late."

"I won't be late, Misses Latuna," Milos assured her with a smart smirk. "When have I ever been late to a party?"

"You're a musician, dear," she harrumphed in reply, wiping sweat from her wrinkled forehead. "Your kind are _always_ late."

"Now that isn't very fair, Misses Latuna," the Bard coughed, taking the bread she handed to him and tearing a large piece from it. It was as soft as a pillow, and steam rose as it broke. "I am no simple musician. I am the Court Bard, favorite bard to the King and Princess themselves!"

"Oh sure, sure, dear," Misses Latuna deadpanned, turning her apron over to see to some boiling pots she had on the stove nearby. "Just as the Princess is favorite to you, I'm sure. You best get that head screwed on straight, its too pretty of a face to be stuck daydreaming in the clouds about lovely princesses all day."

"Careful Misses Latuna," Milos warned, though he was sure to mask his tone civilly. "It does no good spreading silly rumors like that. I am a humble Bard, no more, no less." As _dreadfully_ irritating as it was. True, he was a close relative of the wise Impa, Elder of Kakariko: the closest thing the Sheikah had to royalty, but he couldn't ever be considered anything as lofty as a noble. It would foolishness to think he could ever have the Princess to his own…

Unless…

"That's rich coming from you, young Milos," Misses Latuna poked, cackling to herself. "I seem to recall you being quite adept at spreading gossip and rumors yourself. Hylia knows you spend enough time around Knights and Ladies to learn their quick-minded ways. You've done quite well for yourself, you know."

"I do believe that hurts my pride, Misses Latuna," Milos replied, pretending his indignation. "I'm merely good at my job, my passion unmatched. Bards are not just singers and song writers you know; we are also the world's great story tellers, the recounters and witnesses of history."

"Aye, and no one weaves stories better than you dear," the old cook mused, with only a hint of sarcasm. "All the fine young ladies of the court certainly faun over your works. I wouldn't be surprised if one of them tries to snatch you up so that you can sing for them in their own quarters and make you their little toy."

Milos nearly chocked on his bread, but luckily, he managed to keep it to only a small cough and a reddening face. They wouldn't _really_ do that, would they? Apparently, the question was plain as day on his face, for Misses Latuna began to snicker as old women did, covering her squinting grin with boney fingers.

"My," she chuckled, "I never thought I'd see the day where the cool Milos would turn red and flustered. Well you'll have no sympathy from me, dear, you are a compulsive flirt. It's no wonder the young girls sigh about you."

"I am no flirt," Milos answered quickly, trying to sound calm and cool. "I merely speak what my heart says to speak. You cannot fault a man for being honest." Misses Latuna thought that answer was the funniest thing in the world.

"Oh my dear Milos, you are a character," she said with a smiling expression, though it was quick as lighting to change. Poking a bony finger in his chest, Misses Latuna conjured up her best glower yet. "But don't you let any those fancies go to your head. I've seen the best of men swell up with pride only to trip on their own bootlaces. You best keep yourself humble, Hylia bless it."

"I will, Misses Latuna," Milos replied, rubbing the spot where her sharp finger had pressed.

"That's a good lad. Now! Run along now and go write songs and tell stories elsewhere," the old cook cooed. "I've got too much work to do to entertain you right now, dear. Shoo! Go on and get cleaned up. It's the Winter's Feast tonight, you best look your sharpest."

And that he would!

Pecking old Misses Latuna on the cheek, Milos said his thanks and goodbyes before striking off to the servants' quarters. A room was always set aside for him there, considering her spent nearly his entire time in the Castle, and inside was a large chest packed to the brim with fine clothes fit for a bard.

With fine silks of deep blues and reds, he would look as sharp as any bard could be. Milos was sure to polish he shoes a little brighter today. A night like tonight required one to look their best.

It wasn't very long until he was ready, and with a comb run through his long silver hair Milos gave himself a once over in the mirror and found not a button or thread out of place. Next came his lyre, which despite having spent the last four days in the rugged cold tucked away in its case, was only off-tune a little bit. In no time at all his fingers plucked each note and it resonated with the beauty he remembered the instrument for.

There after it was a simple matter. He had ample time to arrive at the servant-entry of the Inner Sanctum, where he could hear the murmured hum and drum of a large party. Faintly, Milos could catch the occasional note from the band playing in the far corner―simple atmospheric music really, nothing quite like what he played―which was his que to enter.

Putting on his best smile, the young bard pushed through the door, and took in the sight of well over a hundred finely dressed Knights and their elegant women. Some old and some young, the Knights of the realm donned tunics and cloaks of many colors: red, blue, white, and gold primarily, but among them all hung corded lapels over their right shoulder signifying their rank.

The Ladies, who were as varied as wildflowers, ranged in all sorts of manners. Like their Knights, some were young and beautiful, and others were gray with age, but all were adorn in fine jewelry and elegant dresses that caught the chandeliers' light as their skirts swayed with each step.

The ballroom seemed to shine a shimmer in the crystal candlelight, the atmosphere was filled with a warm and cheerful eagerness, and the party had only just begun. It was with a deep breath that Milos smiled… This was his calling. This was where he felt most at home.

Better yet, however, was a young woman that Milos caught a glimpse of, meekly passing through the crowd of high Knights and Ladies on the arm of her father, the King of Hyrule. How wonderful Princess Zelda looked in her slender gown, her hair braided and decorated with gems fit for a woman so handsome. The foolish bard could feel his heart beating harder at the very sight of her, and instinctively he drifted towards her like a moth drawn to a flame…

"Princess," Milos called out, pressing through the crowd. Many Knights stuck their noses up at him when he did so, but he hardly cared. Most Knights didn't seem to like him very much… something about being an eyesore for the women or some nonsense, but that was not important now. It had been too long since he had seen his precious Princesses smile.

"Oh!" Zelda's eyes widened when she realized who had called for her, and then her soft lips curved into that sweet smile of hers. "Milos, I am glad to see you here."

"As I am glad to be here, Princess," he answered, bowing effortlessly before her and the King. "And to you, my King, I thank you for allowing me to entertain you and your gallant company. I believe you will be pleased to hear a song I have dedicated to this day, if would you honor me to share it."

"I am sure my guests and my daughter would be delighted to hear your music," the King replied in his deep and serious way. Hylia above that man was an intimidating creature. All sternness and nothing soft, he was, even when he was being polite. It was no wonder the Princess feared him so. It was as if he'd never known what a father should be.

"I would love to hear it, Milos," the Princess said, drawing the attention away from the King's firm face. She put on a good show about it too, that sweet smile of hers just brushing against her lips. "Will you play for us, after the dancing is done?"

"Come along now, Zelda," the King interrupted, tucking her arm closer into his side as his eyes looked elsewhere, almost as if he always had somewhere more important to be. "Our guests are sure to be impatient."

As sad as it was to see her go so soon, Milos stepped aside for the King as they passed, bowing as they went, and offered a goodbye to his Princess. A fluttering sensation turned in his chest when Zelda looked back for him, a feeling he knew he shouldn't feel. His love was doomed from the start and yet…

And yet he just couldn't give up. There had to be a way!

But alas, that was a plan for another day. For the time being, he had guests to entertain. And of course, he was sure to play the part of the spirited young Court Bard for the lovely ladies of the court―and the gentlemen, he supposed―with small melodies and sentimental songs of life and love. He had an excellent go at it for well over hour or so, but always in the back of his mind was the image of Princess Zelda. A fool he truly was. He simply couldn't dismiss images of her sweet smile, her lovely eyes...

That is at least, until he had reason to think on anything else.

And an unsavory reason it was too. It had been nearly two months since he had last seen Sir Link, and in all honesty he had hoped the man wouldn't have attended the Winter's Feast celebration at all. That lout was anything but a socializer, and yet there he was… brooding silently as always, in voluntary solitude by the back wall where tall rising columns enclosed him on each side.

At least he had the decency to put away that sword of his! In fact, it seemed the young Knight even gave care to dress himself presentably in an acceptable tunic of reds and blues, and white gloves, which was a garb curiously similar to the same uniform the Royal Guards wore. Milos wondered if he had been given an official title _as_ a member of the _Royal Guard_.

An ill thought, he decided. It would mean _that_ man would stick around for far longer than he had hoped. For years, potentially. And well, if that was the case, then Milos decided it was better to make the best of the situation and gather information that could prove useful to him someday.

As Misses Latuna had said, he was well suited for weaving stories together. But to do that, he needed information… substance…

"You never struck me as someone to attend parties," the Bard said coolly, moving over to stand beside Sir Link as he watched the crowd. The man hardly paid him even a glance, much less a reply. A silent shrug was all he got out of him! _The prideful little…_

"Well," Milos continued, forcing his tone to be impassive. He would not give that _man_ the pleasure of showing his irritation. "You better put your best foot forward, Sir Link. These social functions rarely are about celebrating, you know?"

At last Sir Link turned his head rose an eyebrow his way.

"Of course they aren't," Milos said, answering the Knights unspoken question. "True, given at face value, they may all say certain things, pretend to be elated party goers―some of the younger ones may even be honest in their delight―but I assure you that everyone out there…" the Bard motioned with a hand to the bustling crowd before them. "They are here for an entirely different reason. They are here with their own motives, to form alliances, to break off bonds, to spread gossip and rumors. You can see it in their eyes, Sir Link, if you look at them."

Beneath the false bravado, the forced smiles, and loud laughing, every great Knight and Lady in that ballroom had their truer reasons written in depths of their eyes.

"Politics," Milos grinned. "Politics is merely a game they play, Sir Link, and only the naïve cannot see it. They're quite good at it too you know? Why I'd even venture to say they can play these little games in their sleep. It comes as naturally as breathing to them."

"Why are you telling me this?" Sir Link asked in that flat and stoic way of his.

"Because you have not seen it yet, have you?" the Bard answered. However, Sir Link had nothing to say to that. _Typical._ "Well, I suppose there's no reason you'd desire to even try. You would never fit in with their kind. You're an entirely different sort of beast, aren't you? Ah, now don't take offense in it, I mean well by it, Sir Link. But, if I may, I would suggest you learn to play their games; it can be quite surprising what one has to gain when you play the game just right."

"I have no interest in games," the Knight answered.

"Ah is that so? Very noble of you," Milos said as a lofty gesture. "What do you have interest in then, Sir Link. Surely the renowned _Hero of Hyrule_ has his wants?"

The Knight inclined his head, as if to brush the question off.

"You are a tightlipped man, Sir Link," Milos said, forcing a laugh. "Pray tell a humble Bard what lies in the heart of a Hero? This right now, where we are, is history in the making! I should like to think I could―"

"Why are you so interested now?" Sir Link interrupted, firm eyes unwavering. "You seemed happy with disregarding me in the past. Why the change of heart?"

"As I said, Sir Link, there's a game afoot," Milos grinned. "I've only recently realized I've been going at things the wrong way. We are all in a game of wits, if you will, whether you like it or not. And if you are going to survive here in this castle you will just have to learn to play along."

"I've done well enough so far," Sir Link declared, returning to his crowd gazing stubbornly.

"Is that so? The whispers I've heard say otherwise. Rumors have it the King's Council will gobble you up if the King doesn't keep a tight leash on them." The young Knight maintained his vigilance. It was hard to tell if any of his words were even sinking it at all. "Yes, I hear they don't take kindly to you. Why is that? Was it the whole debacle with the Yiga? Perhaps your new status? Or perhaps… something more?"

" _Perhaps_ you will just have to play your little game till you find out yourself, young Milos," Sir Link replied passionlessly. "Till then, have a good evening."

And without another word, Sir Link simply turned and left. Milos's mouth hung open with surprise. He had said it once and he would say it again, Sir Link was without a doubt one of the most irritating and insufferable men he had ever met! It was no wonder at all the Princess despised him!

 _Well,_ Milos thought with a snarling glower. If Sir Link was going to be like that than he'd have nothing to do with the man. He'd find his information other ways!

And what better place to do that than here, where the Knights of the King's Council had gathered? Of course, he would need to be careful; approaching such a task required tact, but he was up to the challenge. Perhaps some of the young Ladies of the court would know the secrets shared by their husbands.

It always was the younger ones that let things slip the easiest.

And keeping that in mind, Milos set about his task until the dancing began. The orchestra, naturally, chose to play various classical waltzes, which were appropriate if only a little boring. Not that it really mattered, he would have the spotlight soon enough, where he could play and sing the ballad he had worked up all that afternoon during his march from Kakariko. It wouldn't be long now at all, dancing at formal events such as this hardly lasted very long. It was more tradition than anything else, and hardly something most earnestly enjoyed.

At least that's what Milos thought until he saw an unusually sincere smile cast among the sea of dancing Knights and Ladies. And what a familiarly sweet smile it was too. So much so that it wrenched the young Bard's heart right out of his chest to see what man held her in his arms as the waltzed amongst the others in a slow and enchanting dance.

Milos wasn't sure if he'd boil over and blow steam from his ears in anger, or melt into the tile beneath him from despair, but there was one thing for certain:

The Princess was batting eyes at her Appointed Knight.

* * *

 _My dear isn't Hyrule a wonderful sight?  
_ _To see Her live on life with such cheer and delight,  
_ _Her many great mountains and plentiful fields  
_ _are sure to warm your heart even when cold draws near  
_

 _To see the sun peak o'er mountains in the east,  
_ _Is a beauty for sure to bring joy and bring peace  
But I sing to you now of a greater beauty to behold_

 _And that beauty is none other than the place we call home_

 _-Excerpt from "The Ballad of Hyrule" by Master Milos, Court Bard to King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule_


	48. Book 3 Chapter 1

Well folks! We're here, in book 3! Sorry I've taken so long to update recently, I've been working out of town a lot lately, and as you can imagine that drags away a ton of time. Hopefully the wait wasn't too terribly long for you all! Anyways, here's to the next book!

Be sure to watch Memory #8 A Premonition before reading this chapter!

Also, someone asked in a review how long this story will be, and in short, I'm not really sure yet. I haven't decided how far into the Post 100 years I will go... We'll see!

* * *

Book Three

The Last Spring

* * *

Chapter One

A Premonition

Winter certainly hadn't gone easily that year. It was well into the fourth month of the new year that the white hills of snow gave way into their obstinance and withered away under the relentless spring sun. The mountains peaks still yet held on, however, strikingly boldly against the clear blue skies in defiance of the changing season.

With each new dawn there came warmer winds, and once again the land of Hyrule seemed to breath with life. Trees budded and blossomed, the flowers outstretched their stems with promises of rich colors in the days to come, and the once somber winter birds cooed and chirped with invigorated delight, setting about their days building new nests for their young.

Yes, Hyrule truly was at its best in the spring, much like how Milos had put it, Zelda decided. He has such a delicate way with words, as if he could sing right to the heart. The ballad he performed at the Winter's Feast was a crowning example of that, a tune of a most refined and soothing elegance. He had made quite the show of too, dramatizing his every move to the rhythm of his lyre. The Princess supposed it wasn't really a surprise that many of the young women of the Court fawned over the foolish boy.

And it certainly didn't help that he was a markedly handsome lad.

Such a complexion was sure to get him into trouble someday with the more… _promiscuous_ Ladies of the Court. Zelda contained the urge to laugh. She'd have to keep an eye on him, to make sure her trusty bard's honor remained intact. Not that she could really do that from _here,_ however, climbing up the steep slopes of the Goron Mountains, but a good thing to keep in mind for later.

No, Milos would just have to keep his wits about him on his own. Zelda had more important things to see to, and another _foolish_ man to keep an eye on.

It recently came as a bit of a surprise to think that about Sir Link: him playing the fool. By nearly all counts he was as level-headed as one could be short of a Sage, but over the long winter months she had begun to feel out the many chinks and chips of her Knight's hard exterior. He was not so nearly perfect as she had once thought him to be.

In fact, were she so bold to say, it had become clear that the Hero of Hyrule bottled up no small amount of uncertainties… insecurities even?

Of course, _that_ was no reason to call him foolish, not a soul on the earth was free of all doubt, it would have been hypocritical to think otherwise. What _was_ reason enough, however, was how Sir Link handled _said_ doubts. It was sometimes hard to pick out, but with a little meticulous thinking the Princess had managed to single a few of them into a neat list.

First there was the matter of his position; he felt it was his responsibility to carry any burden without complaint with so many hopeful eyes on him, but that was an understandable fact well known now.

Secondly, he was―by nature―a reticent man, often times more than happy to listen and observe than to speak. This was the easiest to detect as he was at his most relaxed manner of being, a calm and cool posture signifying a sort of inner meditative peace.

The third point, however, Zelda feared had a much more negative implication.

It was that Link seemed to genuinely lack the ability to express himself emotionally without considerable difficulty. Truly he could recite a report or repeat orders given to him without a moment of hesitation, or explain strategies and list off logical actions to take in the event of ' _hostile engagements'_ without a second thought, but the moment the matter of attention came to close down on how _he_ felt…

Well, for lack of a better way to explain, Zelda felt as if she were trying to squeeze out words from a sheepish child.

Of course, Link didn't stutter or flush like an embarrassed child, but his typically strong eye contact would waver, his pauses would grow longer and his replies shorter, or worst of all he simply wouldn't answer questions at all. A shrug of the shoulders was the best Zelda could get out of him at times, despite her careful strategy. The man would forever be a trying test on her patience, that was for certain.

And yet… he was so… intriguing.

It felt strange, really. Sir Link seemed to be all that occupied her mind at times ever since that winter. He was like a puzzle she hadn't yet found out, one that exhilarated her as much as it daunted her. When she awoke in the mornings and put on her prayer gown, she couldn't help but spend half as much time praying as she did thinking about that _mystery._ At night before she would go to sleep, images and ideas would flash before her closed eyes, ever searching for answers and weighing what truth's she had uncovered.

And stranger still was the odd sensation that would arise in her chest…

It was a faint feeling, like when they danced together at the Winter's Feast celebration. Zelda couldn't recall a time that they were in such intimate proximity before. And it was worthwhile to note that social dancing wasn't exactly an _intimate_ affair; there were expected boundaries and traditions, and yet she couldn't shake that unusual sensation every time she thought back on the way he had spun her around on the ballroom floor. And as odd as it was, she had a good bit of fun.

It helped that he was a surprisingly competent dance partner too.

He was not extraordinary, Link kept his movements and twirls simple and modest, but he more than adequate for a dancing partner, never missing a beat or stepping on her toes. The Princess looked forward to dancing with him again, someday. _Someday soon…_

"Do you need anything, Princess?"

Quite suddenly, Zelda shook herself from what ever thoughtful daze she had drifted off into, only to grow flush with the realization that she had been staring at her Knight from across the campfire. With a dark woolen cloak wrapped around his shoulders, Link blended seamlessly into the darkness of the night surrounding them. All that she could see of him now was where the dim firelight danced on his skin, the small flickering flames glistening in his calm blue eyes.

They were quite handsome eyes.

"No, not at all." Zelda was quick to look away, though she hoped it was not _too_ quick as to not draw any more attention than necessary. Link's head tilted to one side just barely, as if questioningly, but he did not press into the matter.

"We'll be at the gates of Goron Village by midday tomorrow," he said after a while, stirring the fire with a thin stick till it crackled and sparked with a renewed strength. Zelda gave a pleased sigh. A welcome change it was for him to lead some conversation now, even if it was small. It was a reward, she supposed, for all her hard work spent getting him to open up.

"We've made good time," Zelda replied, shifting closer to the flames. It may have been springtime, but the night still brought chilly winds. The remnants of winter still held on by its fingertips. "Far better than if we had stayed at the inn down the mountain. I'd much rather spend whatever nights I can out under the stars."

Staring up at the stars himself, Link hummed his agreement softly. "Looks like the clear weather will hold too," he noted before falling into a lulled silence. He seemed awfully thoughtful tonight, though it was the sort of peaceful thoughtfulness she had identified in him before.

Zelda cracked it up to him simply being in a good mood. It was their first outing since the fall of the last year, and already he seemed to loosen his tense manner. Castle life did not the Hero very well, but he embraced nature as if he had been raised in it.

And that idea brought rise to an interesting question she had asked similarly before, though this time it was from a different perspective…

"Did you spend much time in the wild when you were younger?" she asked, and in unaffecting way, Link returned his focus to their meager fire, and gave the question a good pause.

"I rarely was indoors as a child," he answered.

"That must have been pleasant," Zelda sighed, imagining how different her childhood would have been if she had spent it out in the fields and pastures instead being buried in books and prayer tomes from dawn till dusk. "Did you have any companions to play with then?" Link gave her an odd look. "Friends?"

"In Zora's Domain, yes," he answered. "Mipha, Bazz… a few others as well."

"Bazz? I haven't heard of him before. A Zora, I presume?" Link nodded. "What was he like?"

"Stubborn," the young Knight answered with surprising quickness. "Stubborn but honest to a fault and a good friend." Sensing that he would close up again if she didn't keep him talking, Zelda sat up a little more, and proceeded with more questions.

"Stubborn how?" she asked.

"Well…" He might as well have scratched his chin from all the thinking he did in that moment. Luckily, his answer was well worth the wait. "When we first met, he seemed to have had the idea that I knew how to fight with a sword and wouldn't hear it any other way. Even when I explained to him that I had barely trained under Sir Hamish for less than a year at the time, Bazz insisted that I must have been some sort of expert, 'because I was a Hylian, and all Hylians know how to fight.' For weeks on end he begged me to train him."

"And did you?" A grin began wiggling its way across the Princesses lips.

"He was _very_ stubborn," Link replied, plainly. "So, when I finally gave in I just taught him what I knew, and we sparred together with the other Zora children. 'The Big Bad Bazz Brigade.' That's what he called our group of young fighters, though we usually stirred up trouble more than did any _real_ fighting."

"What tenacious children," Zelda laughed. "Sounds like Bazz was quite the handful as a child. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Shortly after I was brought to Hyrule Castle," he said, but no more. That thought seemed to be a sour one, as his nose seemed to scrunch unfavorably. A small expression really, but Zelda was learning to read his face quite accurately.

"Do you miss him?" To that, Link's scrunched nose was joined by a curled lip because Zelda had asked him how he felt, though she held him to it till he finally replied with a definite nod. _Small victories,_ the Princess thought. _Small victories will win the war._

"He's a member of the Zora Royal Guard now."

"Really? You must have taught him well, Sir Link. I hear becoming a Royal Guard is no easy task."

"I cannot take any credit, Princess," Link answered, shaking his head. "Bazz was quite gifted from the start, and his father took him under his fin once he grew out of adolescence. I was merely a punching bag that could fight back."

"And perhaps that was all he needed, Sir Link," Zelda replied in a teasing manner, though she was certain he was merely being modest. Even Mipha had once spoke of his skill as child, though at the time, the Princess didn't want to hear anything about the _boy_ who Freed the Sword…

How different her perspective was now.

She would have to speak with Mipha again soon and see what secrets she could uncover about her Appointed Knight. But that was a thought for another time. Till then she would have to find out those secrets herself with diligent observation.

All conversation died off by then, though the silence came quite naturally with the insetting pull of sleep. It was a long march up from the stables where they had left their horses, and already her body ached for rest. As the Princess closed her eyes and tucked herself into her bed roll, she imagined what Link could have been like as a child…

Was he as solemn and serious then as he was now, she wondered… or was he like every other child?

Consciousness left her soon after, though Link never moved from his spot at the campfire, even when the occasional gust of cold wind stirred the Princess from her sleep. With bleary eyes she would scan their camp… and there he was, always vigilant. It was a wonder he never seemed tired in the morning.

* * *

Link's eyes felt particularly heavy that mild early spring morning _. One can never be too vigilant in the mountains_ , he thought sternly, and that meant that sometime a good night's rest had to be compromised. Not that it was nothing new to him, it wasn't the first night he had gone with so little sleep.

Still, it certainly took its toll.

Luckily, nothing had come cause trouble for their camp while the Princess slept. Little more than the occasional gust of particularly cold wind stirred her from her sleep, but even then, she was quick to drift off once more into a peaceful rest full of most _un-princess like snoring…_

Which was all well and good except for the fact that meant _she_ would be doubly energetic and talkative today―a proposition that both gladdened him and filled him with dread in equal parts. But you see, the problem was that Link wasn't sure which one was the right way to feel…

Could he have had it his way, he would have preferred to have felt neither. There were to many daunting implications that came with them, and all of which conflicted with one another. Why would he be _so_ gladdened to see her smile with such enthusiasm? Why would ever want to see her otherwise? Why did he feel the desire to hear what fanciful and thoughtful things she would say, yet worry for the questions she would ask him?

Why, simply put, Link just couldn't sort out the mess of _feelings_ swirling in his head. For all the good his brain did for him in that regard that young Knight thought he might as well have been born a dull mule. And it certainly didn't help that today of all days the back of his head ached fiercely right where an old and ugly scar lay underneath the concealment of his hair.

 _Maybe_ _that_ was the reason he couldn't ever seem to get things just right up there, he wondered.

Sir Hamish once said that one to many whacks to the head could make even the sharpest soldier daft, and one too many more would change a man entirely. What then, Link thought, would a skull dashed against the rocks of a waterfall do to a man after it had been Healed?

"You're very thoughtful today."

Link stirred himself with a few stern thoughts pointed at no one but himself. He had spaced out again instead of keeping an eye out for any unsavory suspects on the mountain trail. Daruk had mentioned how the Bokoblins were their most active during the spring; during their mating season. In other words, there was no time to be caught up in endless thinking.

It took a moment longer for him to realize he had not yet answered the Princess.

"A shrug is hardly an answer, Sir Link," she continued in that half-teasing, half-serious way of hers. She wasn't going to be put out today, no sir she would not. He had learned to recognize that fiercely determined look in her eyes, and today it was especially sharp. He _had_ to answer.

Naturally, Link thought up a lie.

"I was thinking about the horses."

"The horses?" The Princess certainly gave him a silly look. And well, why shouldn't he think about the horses? Owning a horse was an enormous responsibility, and he dislike abandoning them every time they had to climb some shale-scattered mountain. How much could they trust the stableboys to keep them watered and fed? And besides that, a hard-working horse need that and a good brush and rub down after a long ride, and the stableboys rarely ever―

The thought in his head stopped in its track. The Princess was looking at him expectantly again. Even after four months of being locked up in that castle, Link still wasn't used to being expected to speak so much…

"Your horse specifically," Link said. "I noticed a scab on his back-right ankle yesterday. I was just thinking of what could have caused it." Now that actually had some truth to it. There _was_ a scab on the white steeds remarkably unblemished coat, though he had already determined its cause: A rather distracted rider leading their mount through sharp and dangerous undergrowth, blissfully unaware of what they were doing.

Of course, he didn't tell _that_ to the Princess. She would have felt awful for it, not to mention a little embarrassed. She was already uncomfortable by her _inabilities_ regarding horses as it was and pointing it out simply wouldn't do her any good now, and besides that, the old stalwart steed would be just fine. A little scab wouldn't stop the likes of him, he was a hardy beast.

"Really?" the Princess asked with a sweetly concerned hum. "What do you think caused it?"

Link opened his mouth to answer, but the words never came out, for just at that moment a blur of movement on the mountain crag above them caught his eye. Although it was for but a second, the objects shape and color marked it as a lone Bokoblin scout working its way through the sharp rocks of Death Mountain.

And where there was a scout, there was a horde. Were he by himself, Link would have pressed on with caution to count their numbers, and even if the odds favored him he would wipe them out… but with the Princess there with him, there were some risks he would be damned to tempt.

"Off the road, quick," Link hissed quietly, grabbing the Princess by her hand as they dove into a cluster of porous volcanic rocks. When she tried to speak Link hushed her with a finger over his lips and pointed to the ridge ahead. Her face grew wide and fearful as she at last caught glimpse of the impish brute scanning the terrain with its ugly and bulbous eyes, sniffing and grunting like a hound on the hunt.

It had already caught their sent for certain.

"Stay at my back, and don't make a sound, Princess," Link whispered. "We're going back down the mountain, where the sulfur fields are. The smell will mask our scents." Obediently, Princess Zelda kept close at by his side, even going as far to keep a hold of his hand as they backed down the craggily pathl. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead as they toiled down the mountain trail, and the faint beating of his heart grew stronger and faster.

Even the hairs on the back of his neck rose and tingled with anticipation. It was his body preparing for the thrill before the fight, as Link saw it, even as much as he hoped to avoid any trouble. Unfortunately, however, trouble found them despite this, and the odds were stacked mightily against him, for another obstacle stood in their way.

Yawning with it's great leonine maw, the great Silver Lynel of Death Mountain almost seemed indolently at ease as he walking slowly on behind them, its massive iron bow peaking above its left shoulder, but Link knew better than to trust appearances. Lynels were intelligent beasts… it was challenging him.

Each clop of the beast great hooves seemed to match the beating of Link's racing heart. _Goddesses,_ the barbaric urge to fight pulled harder and harder on his instincts, but he knew risks were too great. East, west, north, and south the Hero looked for a way to escape, but the more he looked the worse things appeared to be.

They were caught right in the middle of a monster horde's migration, and the only way to safety was to cut through them all.

With a deep breath, Link reached back, and drew out the Master Sword from its sheath. It seemed today he would have no choice but to fight. "I will draw them away, Princess. What ever you do, do not run until it is absolutely necessary. Do you understand?"

"Link, what are you doing―"

"Trust me," he whispered, though it didn't seem to ease the horrified look on the Princess's face. "I'll keep them off of you. Remember, only run when its your only option. Down the mountain." Pulling away from her―her grip on his hand was almost painful―Link bolted off into a full sprint, answering the Lynel's challenge head on and in full force.

It was funny, in a morbid sort of way, how at peace he felt in that moment charging into the heart of danger, but with every swing of his blade the empty space between thought and action vanished as he drew blood from anything that stood in his way. The instinctive beast within himself reared and roared wildly; a terrible surge of hot blood and anger.

It was a far cry from anything he had ever felt before.

But oh how Sir Hamish would have been disappointed to seem him act this way, to let these emotions rule his actions. A soldier had to keep calm… use his head instead of his heart, and yet there he was rushing in like a wild fool, cutting and slicing anything that stood in his way. It was only a matter of time until he paid the price for it.

And sure enough, punishment came at the crushing fist of a second Lynel as it charged at him with a booming roar, knocking him upside till his head spun and his vision grew blurry. Not that it was enough to stop him though…. No, that beast in his own heart roared louder than any Lynel could.

It was a sensation that did not die until a horde of corpses lay before him.

* * *

" _That cut doesn't look to bad, actually. You're fine for now. But you know there's a thin lie between courage and recklessness…"_


	49. Book 3 Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A Simple Matter of Scientific Intrigue

Stirring her porridge in its delicately painted porcelain bowl as if it would make it taste any less bland, Zelda threw caution to the wind and propped her head up by her hand on the dining table to express her exasperate disinterest―most unladylike manners to be sure. Of course, it came as no surprise when she felt her father's firm eyes turn to her, criticizing her with an overbearing presence that needed no words to find its mark.

She didn't keep her head propped up in that way for long.

"You seem awfully bored this morning, daughter," the King said. "Am I really that _poor_ of company?"

"We hardly talk like we once did," she answered dispassionately, and without any real heat. After all, this wasn't news to her. The years had hardened the King like a beating hammer hardened bronze. Especially as of late, as the stresses of a new spring kept her father always busy and in a pinched mood. It was a surprise at all that he even sat down at the table that morning to eat, instead of taking his food directly to his office.

What was unsurprising, however, was that the King had little else to say on _that_ matter and left it unresolved as he finished his breakfast.

"Link is not here this morning, I see?" Zelda's father had a peculiar habit of always noting when Sir Link was not present, though she couldn't say why exactly. It was porobably to ensure _he_ was reminding her of her 'duties' and 'responsibilities,' she guessed. Not that she really saw Sir Link in that way anymore… not ever since she had learned his truths.

"I believe he was out late last night… perhaps even till this morning. He's taken this thievery business about the castle very seriously, you know."

Now that was a tale had come as a shock. It was the day of their return from Death Mountain that Zelda and her Knight stumble upon a scene of a furious King, on-edge castle guards, and fearful maidservants, all whispering rumors of theft and mischief. For from their very own Castle Vaults, countless precious items of historical importance simply vanished in the night, or so they said.

And not a soul knew who had done such a thing! Of course, there were some contenders…. The ill Yiga for starters, a castle guard struck by insatiable avarice maybe, or perhaps―some proposed―a servant with quick and slight fingers that knew their way about the endless halls and rooms of the castle where invaluable objects collected dust behind locked doors.

Foolishness, she thought. No one _servant_ or guard or even Yiga for that matter could make off with so much on their own and not get caught. There were too many eyes in the castle for that.

Sadly, however, foolish or not, the fact remained that the Royal Family's vaults _had_ been robbed of its precious items, and the Princess could only pray for the safe return of the missing items. Hopefully Link could puzzle together the mystery that the guards and inspectors could not.

After all, Urbosa once remarked that he was quite good at riddles, though she never explained how she found _that_ out. The Gerudo Chief was nearly as secretive as Sir Link in many ways… in much more mischievous ways.

"Taken this _thievery_ seriously?" Zelda's father sounded disproving. "He should leave it to men more well suited for such a thing. I won't have him wasting precious time and energy on frivolous matters. Should the need arise, he must to be ready to take up arms at a moment's notice. And you too―"

"I know, Father," Zelda sighed, giving up at last on the bland bowl of porridge before her. "I've doubled my time spent in prayer, as you have asked. I'm doing all that I can." She shivered just thinking about all the extra hours she had spent in those freezing waters of the Castle Sanctuary. A horrid place that dim hall was.

"And see that you keep to it. With all the reports of monsters, Yiga, and all manner of unfavorable folk about, _and_ now this whole mess concerning the robbed vaults, I fear we have little time left. Hyrule is vulnerable. Even with our armies bolstered as they are now." Shifting in his chair uncomfortably it was apparent the King wasn't even necessarily speaking to Zelda anymore but rather voicing his concerns to open air.

"We drain our Kingdoms coffers day by day awaiting an attack which we know neither where nor when it will come, all the while our people cry out against these worsening taxes, their young men resist the drafting, the mothers even more so… The people grow so very restless, as do I…" The King fell into a thoughtful silence after that. A sad silence...

Neither Zelda nor her father finished eating that morning.

But, when the bell tower struck the ninth hour of the morning, Rhoam excused himself to his study to begin yet another day grinding away at the burdensome millstone of kingship. Zelda felt ill with the thought of filling _that_ role someday.

But that would not be for many years yet, and there was still the threat of a rampant monster breaking free someday that occupied all thoughts of the Princess's near future. What good would a Queen be if she had no people to govern?

The idea stuck with Zelda for the rest of that morning until she forced it out with distractions. Or rather, _distractions_ forced themselves in her mind regardless, in the form of a short Shiekah Scientist with more talking to do than morning a bird to sing.

Purah, who had made her self-announced return to Hyrule Castle earlier that spring, seemed to be struck by an incurable streak of impatience, as if the long winter had nearly killed her through sheer boredom. She spent nearly every hour Zelda wasn't praying hounding her with endless questions.

What had her recent visit to Vah Rudania uncovered? Had Daruk mastered piloting the beast? Were Lynels as massive as the textbooks suggested? What was being attacked by one like? Did Link look heroic mowing them down? Did he really kill an entire horde? Did the Master Sword seem to affect his abilities?

Was he this, was he that…?

On and on her enquiries went, and for a moment it made Zelda sympathized with Link's aversion to insistent questions― _but only a moment, mind you_. At any rate, it appeared today Purah showed no signs of slowing down at all, for just as the Princess turned the corner, the indominable Sheikah Purah stood with hands on her hips and declared loudly, "You'd best be ready Princess, we've got work to do today!"

Luckily, Zelda was feeling particularly patient with woman that morning, though she could not say why. Perhaps it was the weather; the morning sky was gorgeous when she awoke before her prayers, and the breeze that drifted through the open windows of the Castle had a sweet, relaxing aroma. Hyrule was always at its best during spring.

"And what sort of work would that be, Purah?" Zelda asked.

"Beetles!" Purah exclaimed. "We're on the hunt for beetles today, specifically the Yellow-Bellied Horn Beetle. I have a theory that they can secrete a peculiar substance that may serve as a cure to the common house fever, and I mean to test it!" Zelda nearly laughed at such an absurd declaration, but then again, who else would say such things? Besides, it wasn't entirely impossible!

"I've never heard of that kind of beetle before, is it native to Hyrule?"

"Well of course, Zellie," Purah scoffed as if it were common knowledge, spinning on her heels and beginning a determined march down the hallway. "You just have to know where to find them! Now go get on your riding boots, we leave within the hour!"

"Where are we going?" Zelda asked with a chuckle. Purah was especially high-energy today.

"Hyrule field, not far from here. There are a few trees in the area that show signs of beetles burrowing in the bark. I have an itching suspicion _that's_ where we'll find them! Now hurry along, we haven't a moment to lose. Shoo! Go! Get your boots!"

"Purah you're being too hasty," the Princess deadpanned. "I doubt Link has even woken up; he was out late again last night hunting down that _thief,_ you know? Father has forbidden―"

"Oh yes, yes, Zellie," Purah said with a dismissing wave of the hand and making a oddly funny yet sour face. "You can't leave the Castle without an escort, times are dangerous, I know I know. But fear not, the man of the hour is already at the stables with the horses."

"Purah," Zelda sighed deeply. "You didn't wake him did you? Hylia alive, woman, let the man have some rest." The short Shiekah could be so dreadfully unthoughtful sometimes and blissfully ignorant of others' interests at best.

Especially when she was in hyperactive mode!

"To late for that, dear Zellie," Purah answered, taking Zelda by the hand as she pulled her down corridor after corridor till she found a maidservant who had to drop whatever important task at hand to run and fetch the Princess's riding boots. The Princess grew flush with embarrassment… she hated putting the servants out like that, they had so much more to do than to dote on their every fancy and whim.

But, all the same, with in a few minutes a breathless maid returned looking red with effort, riding boots clutched tightly against her bosom. Zelda was sure to apologize and thank her doubly before sending the young woman on her way. A well-practived curtsy and 'thank you my Lady' was all that she said before darting off like a busy bee flying to the hive.

From there it was off to the stables―quite the hike to say the least―and sure enough Sir Link awaited them, a bundle of reins wrapped loosely in his palms. His blue tunic stood out among the wash of browns and greys of the Castle Stables and its workers, not to mention his hair which was nearly as golden as her own, yet at the same time he fit in decidedly well among them.

He seemed like a man set about his mastered craft, assured and familiar, yet still disciplined and attentive.

Zelda was glad she was able to prepare a new Champion's tunic for him over the winter… since the last one was soiled with blood―a thought that made her cringe. Memory of the Yiga attack alone was more than enough to sour her stomach, a mix of strong and horrible emotions tainting every aspect of that fateful day, but it had become easier to force out of her mind as of late.

"Good work Linky," Purah said boldly, taking her horses reins in her own hands and swiftly swatting Link away when he tried to help her clamber up on the towering steed. Zelda stifled a laugh at the sight of it. Most Sheikah related to the wise old Impa were quite vertically challenged, but they always fought fiercely to prove they could do any job just as easily as ' _anyone with their heads in the clouds,'_ as she put it.

"I'm sorry about her," Zelda whispered to her Knight as she allowed him to assist her into the stirrups. "She's been practically buzzing with energy lately and can quite easily forget her manners." True to his nature, Sir Link dismissed any need for apologies with a small shrug of the shoulders and a shake of the head, leaving his words unspoken yet conveyed all the same.

A strange gift he had for that… strange indeed. When he wanted to, at least.

"Did you stumble upon any luck last night in your investigations?" Zelda asked once she was sitting well in her saddle and was atop his own.

"Whispers and rumors," Link replied cryptically. "But nothing else. I can't help but wonder what the thief hopes to do with such items. He can't risk selling his stolen goods in open markets, someone would recognize his wares now that the King has sent warrants throughout Hyrule."

"Unless he plans on selling to privateenterprise in… darker places." Zelda's Knight gave her a curious glance. "The underground market, that is," she explained. "It's all very hush-hush―even Father does not know much about it―but there's rumors in Castletown that there's a secret underground market where ill people do all sorts of illegal business."

Like a hound having just sniffed out its scent, Link's ears seemed to perk up and his expression sharpened with intrigue.

"Where would one find more information on these rumors?" he asked.

"No one really knows," Zelda replied, feeling a pull of disappointment that she could not be more useful to Link. Truly she wanted to help him. "At least, no one _says_ they know, but there's always been suspicions shared among the city folk and taverns. The taverners whisper about it amongst themselves and the soldiers hear of it… the soldiers whisper amongst themselves, and the maids hear of it… the maids whisper amongst themselves and I hear it. They all whisper but no one knows where the rumors came from."

"Has the King sent private investigators into the matter?"

"That and more. He's even set some of his best Captains of the Guard to look into it in the past, but they've all found nothing. Just dead ends and rumors…" Link looked dreadfully determined then, and Zelda began to worry a little. "You won't do anything foolish, right? If what everyone says is true, the underground market is a dangerous place; a den of thieves and cutthroats. I would hate for you to get tangled up in something like that."

"Nothing foolish," he answered after a long pause, and in part Zelda believed him… Just as long as he didn't cross the line of courage and recklessness like did on Death Mountain again.

"You two just going to sit there all day and talk like old grandparents or are we going to get out there?" Purah suddenly shouted back, holding onto her reins for dear life as if her old and lazy pack horse would try to buck her. Not that any fear showed on her face, she was far too proud for that.

"We're on our way," Zelda shouted back, spurring her horse into an easy walk after a few kicks. The stubborn beast fought her for a moment, but once Link and his horse had sidled up beside them, he took to following her nudges a little better.

When they were well on their way the Princess offered a small smile to her Knight companion and whispered, "thank you." Link made a face that seemed to ask, 'what for?' "Thank you for putting up with Purah this morning, I'm sure you wanted more sleep after your long night… I would have stopped her had I known."

"Don't worry yourself, Princess," he replied. And for a long while Sir Link seemed happy with leaving the conversation there, but little did she know he actually had quite a lot more to say in regards to their Sheikah companion…. Nor did she expect it to be such an amusing―and most uncharacteristic―addition!

"You know," he began in a low voice so Purah could not hear him. "When I first met her, I didn't realize she was an adult. I had thought a child kicked in my bedroom door."

"Really?" the Princess laughed, though she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth when Purah's suspicious eyes shot back at them. Zelda nearly sputtered for air just trying to hold it all in. "Don't let her hear you say that. She may be short but she'll throttle your neck like you wouldn't believe! Hero or no Hero."

To that Link didn't have much to say, he gave little more than a peculiar look that Zelda could only be described as a sort of wince that she couldn't help but laugh at. He was especially expressive that morning for some reason.

And it only became wonderfully more so…

* * *

Purah was becoming awfully suspicious of her dear little Princess. All that morning she had been snickering and smiling with that handsome little Knight of her… Well, perhaps handsome was not the right word, he seemed to be of a more refined prettiness than the rugged handsomeness usually associated with men, but that wasn't important. Pretty or not, that boy was hard as iron, they said, he would be a hard heart to win. Of course one would _have_ to be as hard as nails to take on not one, but three Lynel all on his own, which showed signs of promise in regards to his combative prowess.

The Master Sword―as she had hypothesized―was taking well to him… Though he might have been oblivious to it, there was no doubt in her mind that legendary blade was affecting his body in more ways then one…

If only she could work out how to replicate such a blade! Even with all her boundless efforts the best she had come up with was flimsy swords that turned an awful black color the moment it oxidized with the air… a strange alloy that steel was… strange indeed. Still, there was time for her to continue her research in that matter. Today was Beetle day, and no silly swords and mystical powers were going to interrupt her very _very_ important train of thoughts.

The only problem was that Purah made the mistake of bringing a _very_ talkative Princess along with her today.

"…Research at the Castle suggests ingesting one of these can actually augment certain abilities," the Sheikah scientist heard from up the hill. Just by the very context of that one sentence, Purah knew exactly what the Princess spoke of. Frogs! "We wouldn't be in a very controlled environment out here..."

 _Well that was for certain,_ Purah harrumphed _!_ After all, _she_ was the one that suggested such an outlandish idea. It had been one of her favorite pet projects all over that last winter!

"But with your level of physical fitness you'd be a perfect candidate for the study!"

 _A fine way to admire his physique there Zellie,_ Purah chuckled.

"Go on! Taste it!"

And wonders among wonders Purah nearly died of laughter when she peeled her eyes away from her work to find the brave and courageous Sir Link of Hateno practically turning green as if ill, backing away from the little creature in Zellie's hands as if it would kill him if it touched him!

Poor little old Purah fell out of the tree she had clambered up into from laughing so hard her sides hurt! _Sir Link! Afraid of frogs! Never!_ She could have died at the ripe old age of three hundred before she ever laughed so hard again.

"Oh Zellie Zellie," Purah hooted, amazed at how quickly Sir Link had regained his composure till it was hard as stone. "You'll turn the poor boy's stomach with that nonsense! I haven't even proven _that_ theory yet any ways, it was merely a hypothesis! Besides, we've better things to research… like Beetles!"

Purah tried her hardest to sound like a stern parent, _truly,_ but in all honesty, she just barely managed to hold back the giggling that bubbled in her stomach. Who would have thought that the stoic Sir Link could be brought to such disgust by the mere idea of eating a simple frog! Oh Hylia bless it, it was a miracle he did not also turn red with embarrassment.


	50. Book 3 Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Whispers, Rumors, and Unsavory Folk

What little alcohol that was left in Sir Link's cup remained unfinished. Had he known it would have been such an overly sweet drink he would have gone without, but at any rate it was imperative that he blended in with the other tavern-goers. And considering the fact he was already a suspicious looking fellow with a heavy hood pulled well over his head working against him, the young Knight need to take any measures necessary remain an unknown face.

And there was his damned golden hair to contend with too… It would have stuck out like a sore in that sea of black and brown-headed Hylians. Yes, all Link could do was pray for luck, and that anyone who saw him wouldn't look past the tattered and grungy tunic and cloak he wore, and the old rusty short sword at his hip. For tonight, he was just a drifting mercenary on his way to the harbor in the south. A nobody with no name. A stranger.

"Can I get you another one of those?" a small voice asked just barely louder than the merry roar of the main room of the tavern. "There's nothin' left but foam, I hope you enjoyed it! Master Ferin ferments his own stock out in the back, he says he'll teach me how to make his specialty mead someday!" Link kept his chin low, the brim of his hood cutting off any chance at a good look at his face. _This_ barmaid in particular was a little too talkative for his purposes. An attractive and kind young lady to be sure, but talkative…

Much like Zelda, he thought... with a hint of amusement.

"But my," the barmaid laughed sweetly. "There I go again, ramblin' and such. Would you like another one, dear?" Link shook his head curtly, and waved her away as if in distaste, hoping a little stiffness in his manners would shoo the young lady away. Fortunately, she seemed to get the memo and with a rueful smile turned and left to wait on her other patrons.

It was a rude but necessary gesture, he decided. His mother would have boxed his ears for it―she always hounded on him for being curt, especially to young ladies for reasons of her own machinations―but tonight couldn't stand for niceties and manners. He was a gruff mercenary on his way south, a drifter with a forgettable face, and he had to act as such.

After all, mercenaries didn't have stern mothers to answer to and… well…

N _either did he_.

With a frown, Link forced down his mead, grimacing from the drink's overbearing sweetness and resumed his endless scanning of the merry gathering before him. Most of the tavener's had simple manners about them, tending warmly to their drinks and food with rosy cheeks and smiles, others seemed a few too many mugs down the drain to be sociable at all, and fewer still were as hard looking and unwelcoming as Link was himself.

Eight men, Link counted, were armed to the teeth, and some wearing insignia of a select few local militias and bands of sell-swords. He was sure to keep an especially sharp eye out for them… They most of all could stir up trouble for him were their affairs tangled up in his. Luckily, none of them seemed interested in anything other than the mugs of ale and mead gripped in their sinewy fingers.

There were many other points of interest that caught Sir Link that night as he turned his ears to eavesdrop, ranging from rumors that he heard in whispering groups, to right-out boasts of drunken foolishness, and even gossip―which he tried his best to ignore―of the affairs of the Royal Family.

Particularly of the Princess…

Whether it was claims that she was destined for failure or sordid comments that made his jaw clench shut, there were some words and images forced on Sir Link that he wished he could scour them from his mind. She was hardly a grown woman yet, Hylia be damned, just shy of her seventeenth year…

Link turned away from such gossiping as quickly he could, but more often than not the damage had been done and like a disease it grew in his mind till he felt uncomfortable and restless. Relief only came from distractions.

Luckily, it wasn't long after that Link's whole reason for being in that run-down tavern in the first place that he at last spotted his target dipping his wrinkled face in and around the bar, sporting a disapproving glower as he tried to wave down the tender with very little luck.

Old Luen… that was the name he had heard, and his description matched this haggard man perfectly. Crooked nose, bony fingers, and a scar just under the left eye. Old Luen at last had decided to show his face tonight, and the rumors Link had picked up for the past week had _at last_ bore fruit.

Crossing his arms and assuming a relaxed position, Sir Link pretended to simply be a man enjoying a few well-earned comforts, but he kept his eyes hidden and well trained on Old Luen like a hawk, assessing and calculating his every action. The man seemed unarmed, though Link couldn't count on that. A dagger was an easy thing to hide and considering the running's of folk he had been tracking as of the last few nights it wouldn't have come as a surprise if Old Luen had something more sinister up his baggy sleeves…

But besides that, Old Luen seemed as much a grumpy old drunkard as the next. He was dressed in unassuming clothes which were neither dirty nor particularly clean either, and his boots which other than seeming a little worn down at the heels were kept well enough one could assume they had been shined more than once or twice. Neither rich looking nor poor in appearance, Old Luen was the fitting man to play a smuggler.

For nearly an hour Old Luen sat and had his fill at the bar, practically drowning himself in mug after mug of a dark alcohol and taking any chance he had to shoot impish grins at the prettier barmaids as they passed. They had clearly learned their lessons with Old Luen in the past, and never came close enough for him to pinch them when their backs were turned. His grins quickly returned to sharp frowns when he found no luck that night.

An uncomfortable affair it was, watching Old Luen.

Thankfully Link didn't have to watch much longer than that, as by the turning of the hour a brutish fellow with a balding head approached Old Luen, whispered something in his ear while they shook hands and then as seamlessly as he had entered, the brutish man left, carrying a small mysterious bundle in a white-knuckled fist. Link couldn't tell what it was the brutish man carried away, but it was not his concern for the time being. His eyes were only set on the smuggler.

With a belch and a sigh Old Luen dug up a few rupees from his pocket and dropped them on the countertop seeming more pleased than when he had entered. He did not linger much longer after that, and with only a stumble or two, he made his way to the door. Link was quick to follow suit, dropping a red rupee on his table before he crept his way through the crowd. It was far more than he owed the barmaid, but he figured it would make up for his rudeness.

The streets of Castletown were quiet at this time of night―excluding the porches of the inns and taverns that dotted the city, of course―which mean that Link had to take extra precautions as he trailed Old Luen. The young Knight was never more than a block behind him, but he was careful to come no closer than that.

Hylia had blessed him that night, for not a single time did the old smuggler look over his to find an armed and cloaked man stalking his footsteps.

And so, around street corners and through narrow alleyways, Sir Link tracked his target like a hound on a scent, until at last Old Luen stopped at the threshold of a rundown weaver's cottage. With a crooked slate roof in dire need of repairs, smashed in windows, and plaster that had been stripped away from its walls after years of neglect and rainstorms it was hard to imagine anyone would have lived in such a dingey and broken little home.

That didn't seem to stop Old Luen, though. With a sniff and another loud belch, the old smuggler fidgeted and pattered around the breast pocket of his coat until at last he procured a ring of jingling keys and unlocked the front door.

From the far side of the cobbled street, Link watched in deafening silence as the front door closed behind Old Luen with a long grinding creak. The flickering of candlelight soon danced in the shattered and boarded up windows of the cottage, moving from one end of the house to the other, until it came to rest on its easternmost side. Link counted three minutes before risking his approach, and as quietly as he could, sidled up against the leaning walls of Old Luen's home, and peeked inside.

The inside of the cottage was as rundown and dilapidated as it was on the outside―if not more, dare he say―and there was hardly anything that could be counted as furniture aside from broken down spindles, and looms that looked as if they hadn't woven strings for the better part of a century. It was absolutely abandoned.

And yet, it was there that Old Luen mused, sitting on his knees as he fiddled with a small basement hatch in the main room of the cottage. A heavy iron lock fastened the hatch tightly down; Old Luen's bony fingers had to work hard to turn it's key, but after a moment the recognizable sound of tumblers clicking into place, it snapped open, and the hatch groaned deeply as it was lifted.

The candlelight slowly faded away as the old smuggler descended into his den, and when the hatch had fallen back into place with a dull thud, darkness surrounded the house once more.

Link let out a long breath, and focused on letting his heart beat settle before he risked opening to front door of the cottage. Of course, Old Luen had locked the door behind him―the man had more than enough sense to do that―but it did not deter the young Knight. After all, picking locks as old as these was a simple matter…

At least, if one had enough practice. It was a skill Link wasn't particularly proud of having learned, given the adverse nature of such trades, but how else was he to break open the chests and safe hordes left behind by dead Hinoxs and Lynels? What sense was there in letting precious resources like that go to waste simply because it was locked behind heavy iron and steel?

Besides, _it wasn't like he had ever used it to break into anyone's…._

Link grimaced ruefully, pausing for a moment, his pick and tension wrench floating inches from the keyhole. It seemed to him now he was not only a fool, but a hypocritic as well. Not that it stopped him, though. After all, if Old Luen could lead him to whoever raided the Royal Family's vaults, then _just maybe_ he could be justified in this instance. Oh, how Sir Hamish would have belted Link if he saw him now…

 _Click!_

Link was surprised by how easily the lock cracked. He would have though Old Luen would've installed better locks than this… Not that he was going to complain, he was already several minutes behind the old geezer, and if he didn't hurry, he might have lost the trail.

And in that spirit, Sir Link gently pushed the door open, and crept inside. The cottage smelled musty and damp, and at nearly every corner there hung intricately woven spider webs, as if _they_ were the new weavers of the cottage, but he ignored all that and went right to the basement trap door, prying it open as quietly as he could.

Darkness stared back at him like a gaping maw, but he did not light a match. No, Link simply found courage, and took the first into pit of which he had no fathom.

A gentle voice in the back of his mind reminded him that there was a fine line between courage and recklessness, and really he should have listened to it, but his eager senses urged him to press on relentlessly. There was no turning back now.

Link took one step… two steps… three… four… Twenty steps he counted until his foot struck hard and damp flagstone.

In complete and utter darkness, Link began to shift forward, feeling his way along the inner walls of what he _assumed_ was Old Luen's basement. The only thing was, if it was a basement, it had to have been the longest and most peculiarly shaped basements he had ever seen― _or felt_ , rather. It was almost as if it were an arched corridor hardly taller or wider than himself.

It wasn't until his eyes began to adjust to the pitch black that he realized _it was_ an arched corridor! A slimy and wet corridor at that. In fact, Link began to feel the distinct sensation of his feet getting soaked through his boots. It was if he was standing in an inch of water…

And sure enough, when he at last caught sight of the faint yellow glow of Old Luen's candlelight further ahead, he could clearly see the ripples of water surrounding him. It was only in that moment that Sir Link realized that Old Luen's basement was no basement at all… it was Castletown's sewers!

The realization made him a little weary of reaching out and touching the walls for stability, but there was hardly time to worry about cleanliness… he still had a job to do, mind you. Digging in deeper, Link pressed on as quietly as ever, following the flickering light around corners and bends, until he presently stumbled up a wide opening in the sewer system.

Spanning several yards wide and many heads taller, the central corridor of the Castletown sewer was illuminated in small cones of moonlight from above, where a system of ladders led up to drains and manhole covers littered about the streets above them. Link blinked a few times till his eyes adjusted to the change, making careful note to not step to far to the right where the water was far deeper and fouler.

The stench alone was practically unbearable, but as he did with the water soaking into his boots, Sir Link ignored it, and set his full attention to the task at hand. Not dirty sewer water was going to stop him from returning what had been stolen from the Princess and her family.

* * *

Misko couldn't help but stare in awe at the wonder before him. Of course, it wasn't the first time he had seen such a wonderful thing, illusionary magic wasn't completely foreign to him, but he simply couldn't help but grin fanatically as the sewer brick wall before him melted and floated away like the mist of a waterfall, revealing a doorway that was simply not there before.

"Incredible," he whispered with a whistle. It never got old.

But he wasn't there to be amused by illusions and secret doorways. No, he was there strictly on business! And what wonderful business it was! To think in all his life he would have such priceless collectable in his possession. It was almost comical how simple a matter it was breaking into the Royal Family's vaults! A child could have done it.

At least, in his opinion of course! He _was_ probably the greatest thief of all time, after all.

The wandering salesman laughed from his stomach. What would he call himself now, he wondered? He was hardly a 'salesman' any longer. _Misko the Mischievous… No, Misko the Great_! _Ah_ what did it matter, he was sure to be the most renown thief in all of Hyrule. At least, among his own peers, of course!

 _Well, a thought for another time,_ he sighed. Giddily, Misko waltzed through the secret doorway whistling an old lullaby he had once heard back in homeland of Termina. But he didn't have to walk long before the dull roar of patrons of the Trader's Hall began echoing down the narrow corridors. And that dull roar grew louder and louder until at last Misko could both see and hear the cheerful gathering of Hyrule's scoundrels as they drank, sang, and found pleasures in every shape and form one could possibly imagine.

 _Now these people…_ Misko could rally behind these kinds of people. Men and women laughing and delighting in their bounties, where no pesky Castletown guards or lofty Knights and Ladies could turn their noses up at them in disgust all the while picking rupees from their very own back pockets. There were no taxes here in the Trader's Den, no classes, no law other than the law of the self! A free people!

"Back again so soon, young Misko?" a sultry voice called, accompanied by a soft finger tickling Misko's chin. The young Thief grinned ear to ear.

"Oh, lovely Mel," Misko chuckled taking his new acquaintance under arm. "I simply couldn't wait to be back, you know? Especially after such a lovely night." Mel's blood-red lips split into a smile he could almost count as sincere, though he knew entirely too well how women of her… _profession_ were capable of conjuring up any expression at the drop of a hat. Not that he cared, the woman had an extraordinary bosom to made up for her less than satisfactory stained and crooked teeth.

"Oh you sure know how to make a woman feel faint, Misko," Mel sighed, fanning herself.

"It is a skill that is every bit learned as it is instinctual of the carnal man, my dear," Misko said, giving the young woman a tender squeeze before releasing her. "But I'm afraid I have business to attend to. I have a new buyer lined up tonight. I have high hopes he will find my wares irresistible. I am meeting his point man as we speak… to discuss the terms."

"Is that so?" Mel sighed, feigning an eager impatience. "You will visit me later then?"

"Of course, my lovely Mel," the young Thief said with a winning smile. "Now run along, I think your customers are growing restless." Eyeing the brooding man sulking at the doorway behind Mel, a fellow with his shirt buttons unfastened hastily, Misko was careful to step lightly… Men were so prone to foolishness when jealous, and Misko knew his skillset involved thievery, not fighting.

And so, with another pinch, Misko sent the lovely Mel on her way, and continued on his journey.

On through the Trader's Den he coolly walked, nodding hellos and goodbyes to his kindred colleagues, dancing in and about the bartenders as they sauntered about the den with sloshing mugs and pockets overflowing with rupees as they serviced their loyal customers, and of course whispering sweet-nothing's in the ears of all the prettiest _entertainers_ with promises to visit later.

Ah, Misko was a happy man now, practically beaming with glee. This was his home. These were his people.

But, duty called, and with a small reluctance, the young Thief slipped away from the festivities of the Trader's Den and entered another long stretch of winding corridor dimly lit by odd smelling sconces. Locked doors were scattered on left at right, many of which echoed with laughter and delight from within, but he did not linger to hear it. Good business called him further into the labyrinth carved into the very foundations of Castletown.

After a good long walk, Misko finally arrived at his destination, and with a cheerful knock on the large iron door, he entered and found the old and immutable Luen Kar sitting at the negation table, gagged and bound.

"What on earth―"

Misko never had the chance to finish his exclamation, for just as soon as he had entered, a rough hand seized him by the collar and yanked him into the room, pinning him against the wall as the door slammed shut behind him. The young Thief couldn't help but yelp from pain―and admittedly, fear―but his instincts kicked in and he thrashed and kicked with all his might.

Sadly, it was to no avail.

"Where are you keeping them?" his assailant barked, a heavy hood covering most of his face.

"Keeping what?" Misko cried frantically, thrashing and squirming as best he could.

"The items you stole." The young Thief struggled again to free himself, unwilling to answer his attacker, but despite the fact that the man was a good head shorter than himself, Misko couldn't gain any leverage on him! Even when he tried to use his hands to pry the man's hands off his neck, or to strike at his ribs, his attacker pressed in tighter and curled to one side or the other so that he could block it with his elbows.

His final attempt to free himself ended in Misko's face being planted on the floor with his hands bent behind his back, a sharp knee digging in between his shoulder blades.

"Tell me," the stranger said again, although with terrifying coolness, as if he were simply asking what time it was. Misko tried to scream for help, but just as he opened his mouth a wadded cloth was stuffed in and a hand clasped over it tightly so that he could not spit it out.

"Scream and I'll get the fileting knife. Now tell me where you hide the items you stole from the Royal Family?" Misko refused to answer again, but just as quickly as the gag had been removed it was forced back into his mouth, a sharp pressure reapplied onto his back till it became nearly impossible to breathe.

For what seemed like an eternity Misko struggled to breathe, let alone break free from his captivity, but in the moment before consciousness left him, hope came at the hands of a most welcomed savior!

Quite suddenly, and with a loud crashing sound, the man pinning the young Thief on his stomach suddenly slumped over, and fell as if he had been struck down… And as a matter of fact, the man had been struck down! By some miracle, Old Luen had cut himself free from his bonds and had broken an empty bottle over the assailant's head.

Still gripping the neck of the shattered bottle, Old Luen lunged at the man who attacked them, digging razor sharp edges into the man's arm as he held it up to defend himself, undoubtedly bleary eyed and disoriented from the blow to his head.

"I'll teach you to gag me, you little shite," Old Luen growled like a feral dog, sweat dripping from his wrinkled skin profusely as he worked relentlessly to keep their hooded assailant from gaining the upper hand. "You think you could keep me tied up! Me? Do you know who I am?"

"Luen, what in the goddess's names is going on here?" Misko gasped, crawling onto his knees, panting for air.

"This little snitch followed me here," Old Luen groaned furiously, nearly losing his hold of the man. "He's a sharp one, I'll give him that, and quieter than an alley cat, but not sharp enough."

Unfortunately, however, those words turned to ash in the old man's mouth, for just when the battle seemed hard fought and won, a closed fist came careening into Old Luen's face with a loud jarring smack. All in a flash the tables had turned on them once more, and worse was that their assailant had drawn his sword and stood at the ready, a vicious frown on his bleeding and bruised lip.

Worse still, however, was that now that his hood had been pulled back from their mysterious assailant, Misko instantly recognized the fierce face staring back at them… and his heart sank to his stomach, and then to his feet.

"Luen," the young Thief said, though it was a raspy airless breath, slowly inching towards the door. Fearless blue eyes followed his every move, though they seemed to find a hard time focusing on them. That hit to his head had stunned him significantly, but Misko could feel in his gut that they had no chance of beating him still. "Run!"

Without checking whether or not his accomplice was right behind him, Misko bolted to the door and threw it open, sprinting for all dear life! "Run," he screamed as he ran past every door and every corner. "Run, we've been found out. Abandon the Den!"

Utter chaos ensued!

Misko ran and screamed until he could barely breathe, nearly tripping over his colleagues that rushed to their feet in the frantic fray that sprung up ahead of him. What was once a scene of pleasure and bodily delight turned to pure madness. The vendors and entertainers gathered what possessions they could in a flurry before bolting off in every which direction, the drunkards and bar patrons stumbled and tripped their way into the sewers!

In no time at all the once merry gathering of Hyrule's happiest and scummiest scoundrels became like a roaring river rushing down the sewer corridors in a mad fright, clutching rupee purses and stolen goods against their chests like their lives depended on it.

And Misko…. Well, Misko knew his days in Hyrule were over. The Hero of all bloody Hyrule knew his face, knew his _very_ name, and _he_ knew his greatest crime. By the time he made it to the harbors at Hateno, his name and likeness would be plastered on ever damned village wall from here to the southern provinces. Yes, his time in Hyrule was unequivocally done.

 _So much for the greatest thief in all Hyrule,_ he bemoaned to himself with somber remorse. He wouldn't even have enough time to stop at all his secret depositories scattered across Hyrule to retrieve the items he had stolen from the Royal Familiy's vaults… Oh how great his sorrow was!

But perhaps, Misko thought in the taking of some small comfort, he could still return his home in Termina, and resume being a humble Mask Salesman.

* * *

 **Hi all!**

Its been a hot-minute since I've added a **AN** at the end of a chapter so I thought I'd add one here! I hope you enjoyed this thrilling chapter, it was a much needed break from the boring hum-drum of castle life, and a break away from events set forth by the game! Not to mention nearly a full chapter taking place in Link's perspective! I wont lie it was refreshingly creatively.

To be honest, I kinda imagine the whole Trader's Den scene looking much like the Thieves guild under Riften in the good ole' classic Skyrim, so full of dark and dingy rooms, yet touches of homeliness with the bar and colorful characters. And, in case anyone hasn't played Majora's Mask, this chapter finally reveals that Misko is none other than the famed Happy Mask Salesman! (Out of proper timeline, of course, but its the LOZ universe, it happens). Just a little easter egg I was excited to finally bring into the light in case anyone missed it. I only sort of hinted at it before (One: in his character descriptions, two: his secret love of masks, three: the cute Keaton mask he sold to Zelda when they happened to meet on the road once... and the rest ;) )

Anyways, I haven't replied to nearly as many reviews as I have hope to as of late, so sorry about that! I'll try to drop at least a brief thank you or a short answer to any questions!

Cheers!

-Written in Bold


	51. Book 3 Chapter 4

-Prelude I-

Captain Heris couldn't help but scratch his head and wonder what on Hylia's good green earth had happened in those spiraling tunnels and dens beneath Castletown's street. From overturned tables and ransacked quarters, to storerooms left in shambled messes as if a wild beast had gone rampant in them, it was all simply too bizarre a scene to wrap one's head around fully. Yes, Castletown Captain scratched his head indeed. That is as least, until he remembered all the ill smelling muck and grime that coated his hands and uniform after nearly an hour searching every crack and corner of the Castletown sewers.

His stomached turned as he wiped his hands against his pants; the smell alone was practically unbearable.

But, unbearable or not, there was far too much work to be done to be put out now. By his educated guess, they'd be down there till dusk weeding out any remaining thieves and hooligans still hiding behind ever crevice of the goddess forsaken labyrinth that the town guard had found themselves in. They had seized eight miscreants so far, but if Sir Link's estimations were right, they lacked a total of forty. Forty!

The good Captain felt a little wobbly just thinking about taking on such a monumental task on his own with what little manpower he had at his disposal...

He needed a moment to sit… _yes,_ that was all. Just a moment to sit and wring out the filth on his hands and―Hylia willing―to catch his breath. It was that very thing that brought Captain Heris over to a very peculiar young man kneeling near a small alcove where the rungs of an iron ladder led up to the streets of Castletown above by a heavy barred hatch. The man in question absentmindedly rubbed the bandages hastily fastened around his right arm, no doubt beginning to feel the ever-aching throb of skin and muscle mending itself.

A nasty wound that was, but nothing clean bandages and a time couldn't heal.

"Eight, so far, Sir," Captain Haris said to the man as he sat down on a jagged ledge that jutted out from the sewer wall, hoping to catch the Hero's attention. Sir Link acknowledge him with a short and firm nod before returning to the small thing that piqued his interest, and said nothing.

Yes, the Hero of Hyrule was a peculiar man alright. If _man_ was an appropriate term that is…

To Captain Heris, Sir Link seemed more a boy than a man; he could not have been much older than nineteen by his estimate, with smooth and unblemished skin clean of any facial hair, and not to mention his small stature, lean as it was. Hardly the sort of grown man one would expect to be chosen by the one and only Master Sword.

Then again, they said the goddesses worked in mysterious way…

The old Captain took a gander at that very Sword resting on the lads back and couldn't help but be awed by its wondrous make. Never had he seen such a blade before, with its polished hilt of purple and gold, and its ornate scabbard fitting of a king. Its beauty stood out like bright flame in the dingey depths of the sewers.

Still, with all that said, there was the matter of the boy _wielding_ that blade.

He couldn't quite put his finger on what was off about the boy, excluding his near muteness, that is. As some rumors had it the boy was said to be simple in the head, but Captain Heris found no reason to believe that in his brief interactions with him; gossip never fancied him much anyways. Though he was quite, Sir Link was a keener lad than most. His recounting of his run-in with the scoundrels beneath Castletown was both thorough and meticulously detailed down to the very second. He was a soldier at heart, that young lad, and a damned good one Captain Heris would've assumed.

Outside of that, however, it almost felt as if the boy lacked the normalities of a sociable Hylian.

Sir Link was solemn in many ways, that much was for certain. His face rarely shifted from that stony gaze of his, and he had an odd habit of leaving open ended questions unanswered. Even when he did reply, it rarely received more than a nod or shake of the head. Captain Haris had found being as direct as possible was the only way to get much out of him. Strange behavior, he thought, for a man described as 'the Hero of Hyrule.' Stranger still, however, was the object had been occupying the boy's attention for ever since the Captain came and sat beside him:

A beautiful flower of pure white and blue.

Small as it may have been, that pretty thing had rooted itself in what little soil there was where a brick had been cracked and dislodged from its place among the endless pattern of the sewer flagstones, hard and obstinate in its way. Its soft white petals bloomed under the streaks of sunlight pouring in through the iron grate above their heads leading to the bustling and busy streets of Castletown.

"I say," Captain Haris huffed in wonder. "What a lovely flower to be growing in a place like this, how on earth do think it even got here?" To his surprise, in a very brief moment it seemed to Captain Haris that Sir Link had forgotten all about being a glum and serious man and with a hand as delicate and soft as could be he reached out to touch the blooming flower, head leaning one way with curiosity.

"It's a Silent Princess," he said almost in a whisper, utterly fixated with a peculiar fascination one would normally see within a child. "It's a rare species on the brink of extinction. You see, it's never been grown domestically before... a wildflower, if you will. I don't understand how it could be growing down here where it gets so little sun."

"Well I say, if you weren't a gardener in another life than you can call me King," old Captain Haris joked, though Sir Link didn't react in any meaningful way. Just a serious shake of the head. No, he couldn't even give rise to a small grin from the boy. A pity, the Captain thought, but nothing of consequence.

Clearing his throat, he spoke again saying, "So, where'd you learn about this―em, Silent Princess, you called it?"

"From a friend," he replied shortly, inspecting the flower a little closer. "She has quite the interest in them…" The boy paused briefly, and then strangely he asked, "Captain, do you have something I could put this in?"

"How'd you mean, Sir?" Captain Heris answered with a puzzled expression.

"A pot… or vase?" Sir Link explained, gesturing to the flower. "Anything that I can put this flower in, roots, soil, and all?"

Now why would he have something as silly as that in a sewer, the Captain mused? Were Sir Link's face not quite so serious, he would have laughed with amusement. "Em, I'm afraid not Sir," Captain Heris answered, scratching his balding head. "Maybe the Den further in might have something? Those thieves sure did leave a mess behind―"

He didn't even bother finishing the thought, for while he spoke the peculiar young man beside him freed a small rupee purse from his belt, dumped out what remained―which wasn't much―and then began carefully digging up the Silent Princess with his fingers before placing its roots in the purse, packing in soil around it as if it were a makeshift planting pot. Captain Heris couldn't help but be confounded by the whole show.

"Well," Sir Link began once his work was finished, clutching his new flower in the crook of his uninjured arm. "Do you need my assistance any further, Captain?"

"Oh… em, no, I don't think so, Sir Link," he replied, rushing to his feet as the Hero stood. He hesitated for a moment though when the young man swayed a little and massaged his temple as if his head hurt… The old Captain said nothing about it, however, it was surely nothing. "It's all grunt work from here on, I doubt my men will be finished sweeping the whole area till sundown."

To that, Sir Link nodded once, and quite carefully too. Captain Haris wondered if the lad had simply stood up to quick? "I see," he said. "Please do send word if you capture anyone else, we may recover some of the Royal Family's stolen goods yet, if we're lucky."

"Of course, Sir Link," Captain Haris said, offering a crisp salute as the young man left, still massaging his temple.

Yes, truly Sir Link was a strange and mysterious man, and no amount of puzzling and pondering seemed to help bring clarity to the matter. And so, still scratching his head, the old Captain returned to his work alongside his men, reflecting on his bizarre experience with the living breathing Hero of Hyrule.

* * *

Chapter Four

The Language of Flowers

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Amelia pulled on the leather straps digging into her shoulders till they were repositioned more comfortably. Her workload was particularly heavy that afternoon, which it made it feel like wicker basket hanging on her back was loaded down with bricks. Not that could complain too much, though. Honest work was honest work, and a day that she had to march her way up the endless flights of stairs in Hyrule Castle with a bulging basket of laundry was a better day than being out on the streets with no place to call home.

Amelia thanked the heavens, and a peculiar Knight, for blessing her with that simple provision… A home.

She only lingered for a moment though, there was still plenty more work to do! And so, with a sigh of relief, Amelia hiked her wicker basket higher on her shoulders and pressed on. Going from room to room, the young wash-maid nimbly worked her way around the many rooms and suites occupied by all manners of people―Knights, Ladies, guests, diplomats and the such―and discreetly replaced their freshly washed and delicately pressed clothes before slipping out as quietly as a mouse, all the while beaming with an honest sort of pride.

Hyrule Castle was always packed to the brim this time of year, you see, when the cool beauty of the New Spring brought travelers from far and wide, which meant more work for the servants and wash-maids. Amelia's fingers were raw already from all the washing she had done _that_ morning, but such a small matter could be ignored easily as long as she kept busy. And busy she did stay.

Twelve rooms she visited within the quarter of an hour without a second thought all until she gave pause at one particular door at the end of the hall…

Amelia never could figure out why knocking on Sir Link's door made her so nervous, he had never been anything but so very kind and considerate to her, yet every time she thought about him there was just something that made her heart jump! The other wash-maids teased her for it; they seemed to think she fancied the Hero of Hyrule. It wasn't as if it _her_ fault that _her_ face turned as red as a tomato when they said as much.

She just didn't like being teased, that was all…

Amelia had to give herself a shake to forget about such nonsense, there were still clothes that need delivering. Reaching up to Sir Link's door, the young wash-maid knocked and waited, but heard no answer. Which wasn't surprising, he was rarely in his room during the evening―he was an important man, surely with an endless list of things to do―so without a moment more of hesitation she turned the handle and stepped inside.

The Hero's personal quarters were unremarkable at best―humble, even―but it seemed to suit the Sir Link just fine. He never struck her as an extravagant man who would want lavish cushions and expensive Gerudo rugs. Only sturdy and practical wooden furniture kept clean and neat decorated Sir Link's room; the fitting example of a disciplined soldier. The only issue she found was the clear lack of appropriate lighting.

With only a few measly windows on the east wall of the room―which were typically left curtained―and a handful of candle sconces which were covered in melted wax, Amelia felt as if she were walking into a dark smugglers cave and had to blink a few times before her eyes could adjust.

And today it was especially dark.

Which was probably why it took her four solid steps well into the Hero's room before Amelia realized the man himself was fast asleep as his desk, face buried in the pages of a small leather-bound book, arms crossed messily out in front of him just narrowly avoiding a nearly tipped over ink well. It didn't seem a very comfortable way to sleep at all, yet there he was.

Quite involuntarily the young wash-maid made a sound akin to a frightened mouse before she tried to make for the door, worried that she would wake him, but the loud jostling of her hasty retreat awoke the slumbering soldier rather dramatically. All in the blink of an eye Sir Link's head shot up and he turned to face her, half ready to leap out of his chair, eyes still bleary and groggy from restlessness.

She was not aware of the dagger he nearly drew being replaced in its sheath once he recognized her face.

"Oh, Hylia," Amelia squeaked. "M-my apologies, Sir Link, I knocked but you didn't answer, I thought you were away. Had I known―"

"Don't worry yourself," Sir Link interrupted waving away her fears before retaking his seat and gently massaging his temples as if he was battling a headache. The last few weeks must have been hard on the man, given his state of appearance. Hunting down thieves as he did was tough business to be sure and Amelia wasn't even certain of the specifics.

She had only heard what the public had heard: The Hero of Hyrule had tracked down gang of crooks into the very sewers of Castletown where most narrowly escaped the clutches of justice! At least, that's how the town criers put it. There was a fair share of other perspectives on the matter, most in favor of Sir Link's action, but others were―primarily the higher noble class of Hyrule―displeased with his _'impetuous'_ actions, as they put it.

Regardless, the whole affair had undoubtedly left the Hero worn down and tired, and it showed, despite his stoic nature. It took Sir Link a moment to blink away the bleariness in his eyes, but in short time he spoke again with a voice still gravely from deep sleep, barely holding back a long yawn.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," he said.

"Oh…" Amelia found it hard to look Sir Link in the eyes, but when she eventually mustered her courage and composed her maidly manners the young girl glanced up and assuredly said, "It's quite alright, I've always been a bit jumpy…" She laughed in hopes of easing the situation, but it only came out as an awkward chuckle. "And besides, I should have been more aware before entering, it wasn't your fault, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Somehow in his own way, Sir Link shook his head as if to excuse any need for being embarrassed by the whole ordeal, which did make Amelia feel admittedly better… although her face still felt a little flush. That didn't go away entirely just yet. She could just imagine the other wash-maids poking fun at her if they saw her like this, little mischievous smiles turning their lips impishly.

She did well to forget _that_ image.

Clearing her throat with all intentions of sounding a little more professional, Amelia asked, "Would you like me to come back later? I have a stack of clothes with your name on it that I'd be happy to deliver them another time if you're busy…" She glanced over to the opened book on his desk, distantly wondering what he was writing.

Not that it was her business, but it still intrigued her. What did the Hero of Hyrule have to write about, she wondered? Surely there was a lot for him _to_ say, being both a Knight and bearer of the Master Sword, and a secretive man in all the same! Amelia tried to be discreet about peeking over in hopes of catching a few words or sentences here or there, but unfortunately, Sir Link noticed her glances almost immediately and as smoothly as a pickpocket, he flipped the small book closed without even looking, forever concealing the mystery of his writing.

"No need for that," he said politely, "I am done here. You're free to do as you need, I won't be in your way for long."

Amelia gave a small curtsy then, quite unsure as what the proper thing to say was and continued with her work as meekly as she could. The young wash-maid shuffled over to Sir Link's dresser and pulled the bottom drawers out before gently digging through her wicker basket and what few items he owned and placing them in the dresser in neat stacks. She took careful effort to sort by color, though his clothes rarely ranged from colors of blue and muted gray.

Still, it was important to her to carry out respectable work, even if it was as small a matter as that. Besides, focusing on the minute details helped her ignore the lingering tingle of embarrassment from before, though it could not get rid of it entirely. Such a thing was hard for a young girl like Amelia to forget, she was a very self-conscious lady after all. That is until something most peculiar won over her full attention.

She forgot all about doing laundry and being embarrassed then.

How she didn't notice it before, Amelia could never say, but there was no doubt about it in her mind then that the object that had captivated her eyes was nothing short of a budding Silent Princess flower, blooming unassumingly in a small clay pot that rested atop Sir Link's humble dresser. With hues whiter than snow and washes of rich sky-blues, the solitary flower stood defiantly in a radiance of beauty and life unlike any other flower she had ever know.

"Where did you get this?" Amelia gawked with astonishment, not quite remembering how she was told a maid _should_ act in the presence of Knights. "How did you get it to grow in a flowerpot?" Sir Link seemed almost surprised, perhaps even a little disbelieving, of her awestruck interest, given the way his eyebrows curled strangely!

"You know what kind of flower that is?" He stopped massaging his temples then.

"Oh of course I do," Amelia replied elatedly. "Why, my mother used to own the finest flower shop in Castletown before she…" The thought turned bitter in her mind, a sad bitterness really, but she put on a brave face about it. It was unbecoming of a servant to unburden such personal things to a Knight, much less _The Hero._ She'd have her ears boxed by the Head Maid of the castle if that crotchety old woman ever found out!

"Before she died, that is," Amelia continued as soberly and plainly as she could, hoping Sir Link would think nothing of it. "We used to grow all sorts of flowers… Safflinas, Nightshades, Violets, just about any flower in Hyrule except for of course Silent Princess's." The memory tugged hard on her heart, no matter how much she tried to ignore it.

"I remember when we would go on adventures out into the prairie lands looking for new species to plant, and every so often if we were lucky, we'd find a Princess in the wild. Of course, we tried to grow a handful on our own before, but they never took root. Not even the flowers we tried transplanting could last very long―they could last longer being plucked than being planted, strangely. We stopped trying after that, there wasn't much sense in ruining such pretty flowers hopelessly…"

For some reason Sir Link had developed a sort of soft look in his eyes then, and although Amelia couldn't point out _exactly_ what it meant with any certainty, she couldn't help but feel a little sadness in his uncharacteristically gentle gaze. Or perhaps it was pity? Sympathy, even? _No, that couldn't be right._ Surely she was missing something…

"So, how long have you had this little one planted?"

"Four days," Sir Link replied.

"Remarkable," Amelia cooed, reaching out with a delicate finger to feel the petal of the Silent Princess, delighted to find it smooth and untouched by wilting wrinkles. "Where did you find it? How did you get it all the way here?"

"I found it in the sewers beneath Castletown," he said, and then made a funny gesture with his hands explaining that he had dug it up with his fingers. Amelia smiled; Sir Link had a very unique way of communicating that seemed _unfitting_ of a Knight yet somehow _fitting_ of him. Or at least, it seemed fitting of him in her eyes. There were certainly those among the Castle that found him suspiciously odd. Some even whispered amongst themselves that he might have been slow, as ridiculous as _that_ sounded!

There were some that whispered all sorts of nasty things about him―mostly soldiers and Knights that felt threatened by his status―but Amelia had mind to ignore them all. She knew him better.

"The sewers?" the young wash-maid marveled. "Did you find it after you and the guards weeded out those thieves?" Link nodded. "How could it have grown in the sewers?" Amelia tapped her chin, thinking deeply and fervently before speaking her own mind aloud.

"There's hardly any sunlight down in there I imagine―sunlight is very important, you know. Then again, the soil must have been well fertilized all things considered, we don't really know what kind of soil Princess's prefer, it's possible it was just the right mix…" A hundred other similar questions zipped through the young maid's head, though they rarely led to answers, only more questions. "Did you notice how much sun it _could_ have gotten? Maybe it was just enough to thrive?"

Link shrugged his shoulders. "It was blooming under a storm drain…"

Amelia hummed with excitement. So, there could have theoretically been enough sunlight, and whatever fertilization that was festering in the sewers must have been just right for the Silent Princess to grow in… Did that mean there was hope in domesticating such a rare wildflower? Maybe one day she could reopen her mother's shop and be revered as the only florist in all of Hyrule capable of growing such a rare flower.

And what a lovely dream it was. Unlikely, but a lovely dream, nonetheless.

The vibrant vision in her mind only lasted for a while, though, and soon such imaginations gave way to reality once more, where a humble wash-maid stood before Hyrule's Champion asking silly questions that would be sure to get her in trouble if her supervisors ever found out. Not that her fear of that deterred her completely, though.

"How exciting this all is," she began with a sigh, and then quickly added, "If I may ask, Sir Link, what do you intended to do with it?"

"I intended to give it to Princess Zelda," he said plainly, and Amelia felt her little heart drop for reasons unknown to her… or at least for reasons she was unwilling to recognize.

"Oh―em! I'm sure she would love it, Sir," the young wash-maid piped awkwardly, "Forgive me, I was just unaware you felt that way about the Princess, though I suppose it's not entirely surprising, if you don't mind my saying of course, Sir." Sir Link gave her the strangest look yet then, a sort of wide-eyed _surprise_ facethat she had never seen him make before, nor never thought he'd be capable of making!

"Pardon?" he asked in an unusually puzzled tone. It was only then that the simple realization dawned on Amelia: Sir Link didn't know about the language of flowers!

"I'm sorry," she squeaked, inching her way to the door for a hasty retreat if the embarrassment became too much for the young girl to handle. "I misunderstood―em―well you see, my mother taught me everything there is to know about flowers, and she especially focused on what gifting certain species of flowers mean." That explanation didn't seem to clear up the confusion twisting the Hero's expression, so Amelia tried again.

"To put it simply," she began. "Certain flowers are intended to be understood by certain meanings, like a language. If you want to let someone know your sympathies, you gift them with Nightshades; if you want to express your gratitude, you give them Warm Safflinas… Every flower has a hidden meaning, you see?"

Link nodded slowly as understanding began to work its way into his mind.

"And of course," Amelia continued, "there are many flowers one can use to express one's admiration or affection for someone they care about, but the Silent Princess… well, the way my mother once put it, such a rare flower can only convey a deeper feeling than just mere affection. It symbolizes the very expression of a ' _rare_ and incorruptibly strong love.' I've never heard of someone giving another a Silent Princess without meaning to say _that_ …"

And at last, Sir Link's puzzled expression faded away, giving in once more the flat emotionlessness for which the Hero was known for, rendering him an enigma to any outsider. Amelia was almost sad to see his old façade return… it didn't quite suit him anymore, she decided.

"Well," Sir Link declared, standing to his feet slowly before organizing his few belongings strewn across his desk, lingering for a while to massage his head for a moment. "We can't have that now, can we?" He turned to face Amelia. "Thank you for informing me of the flower's… significance. I will make sure it's handled appropriately. I meant to merely give it to her for scientific research; she has spoken a few times about trying to domesticate Silent Princess's, and when I saw this one, I thought it might help her in that regard. I will make certain it is not received in such a manner."

"Ah," Amelia coughed. "Of course, I'm sorry I mistook your intentions, Sir, I hope I didn't offend you."

True to his character, Link waved away her apology with a kind solidarity and a few simple words, and then with little more than a short goodbye and a word or two of encouragement, he left with a few books and small possessions cradled in the crook of his left arm, carrying on with his day like any man did. Amelia watched him leave with a strange feeling in her chest―an almost worrisome and naïvely jealous sensation―that stuck with her for the rest of the evening…

Just how did the Hero _really_ feel about the Princess, she wondered?

* * *

BOO!

Happy October everyone! I hope it's especially spooky this year for you all. Anyways, I don't have much to say here, this chapter is more of a build up chapter, so sorry nothing exciting really happens... but fear not, there is more to come.

Speaking of the future though, just wanted to let y'all know its gonna be a crazy month-month and a half for me, so I probably won't be able to update hardly at all, but I will try my best.

Ciao

-Bold


	52. Book 3 Chapter 5

Chapter Five

A Surprise Guest

Pushing her reading glasses up further on her nose, Purah gave a second long look at the incoherent scribbles scratched on an old and shattered tablet. Despite being fluent in the ancient tongue of her people, the Sheikah Scientist simply could make out little more than a word here or there etched in the strange stone; it was entirely a helpless pursuit, she decided. There was nothing she could glean from it further. Nothing useful that is.

And so, with a yawn and a stretch, Purah leaned back in her chair, scooping up a mug of steaming Nightshade tea, and daydreamed of ways to perfect her shambled machines scattered across her workspace. Small things, those _Scout Guardians_ were―that was what _she_ called them―but that hardly helped her cause. As it was with the full-sized behemoths lying dormant on the Castle grounds in various states of disarray, from mild corrosion to full blown dilapidation, Purah and her brother Robbie hadn't found much luck in getting the damned things to work in any meaningful way.

There were of course isolated incidents where one might spark with life only to collapse under its own weight the next second, and even the wild event of the previous summer that led to their resident Hero to destroying a Guardian with a pot lid, but outside of that success had been a hard thing to find indeed.

The Sheikah Scientist chuckled ruefully.

But, though her spirits might have been feeling a little down, she still had hope. Mark her words, Purah swore to the goddesses she'd get those damned Guardians roaring and rumbling like they did in ancient times―even better if she had anything to say about it―and then her name would forever be held in high esteem among her people. The bastion of the Old Ways, _no,_ the Greatest Mind of the Sheikah, Wisest and Fairest!

Such titles had a nice ring to them, but then again, it would be the thrill of living in the moment of great success that would be the sweetest victory, would it not? With that dream, Purah took heart, and wondered what her next step would be. Between sips of her tea, and pondering grumbles, the young Scientist decided to hold a little thought experiment in her head.

She never got very far though, for just as it had begun a faint motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention; a fluttering moment of gold and blue. It seemed to her there was someone standing just outside the laboratory window, right next to the closed door. No one other than the Princess and Robbie ever bothered her, and neither ever came unannounced! Naturally, such a thing interested the indominable Sheikah immensely, and so hopping down from her chair, she tip-toed her way across the room, and stuck her nose against the foggy paned window.

And what she found was quite a sight to see indeed!

Of all the people she thought she might find, Purah had never imagined the esteemed Sir Link would come to knock on her door completely alone and at random. She was quite certain the young Hylian found her intimidating―a natural assumption, she thought―which obviously was why he was always so obstinate and unwilling to say more than two words to her. That _boy_ was as talkative as a rock, mind you!

Now smooshing her hands and full face against the window to get a better look at him, Purah watched the young man behave strangely. It was almost as if he was hesitant on being there in the first place… Sir Link hadn't even knocked once, yet still he hovered and loomed at the threshold like a man who's mind was split right down the middle, a mind caught between two unfavorable actions, and could only weigh the lesser of one against the other. And all the while he massaged his temples as if his head ached.

It was such a rare thing to see him behave as such. Purah absently contemplated getting her notebook to jot down a few lines for later study, but before she could Sir Link with his hawk-like awareness caught wind of her covert observations from the laboratory window, and he scowled his eyebrows at her, assuming his usual ridged demeanor. Purah couldn't help but laugh as she hopped down from the windowsill and skipped over to the doorway before flinging it open, greeting him flamboyantly.

"You caught me, Hero," she sang. "Now, what do I owe the pleasure? You never visit me by choice, you know, I'm always the one that has to hunt you down! You're a hard man to find you know―"

The words died in Purah's lips, for as she was speaking, Sir Link produced a strange object previously held behind his back and presented it to her as carefully and delicately as he could. What he held surprised the Sheikah Scientist to no end: It was a Silent Princess, blooming beautifully and healthily in a small clay pot not much bigger than the palm of his hand, against all odds.

"My, my, Sir Link," Purah tsk'd, brimming with mirth. "What, are you madly in love with me? I must say, I never expected it, not from you at least, but I'm aware of the way my heavenly looks woo even the most stoic of men! But I'm afraid I can't accept your offering… I'm simply too busy with my precious work to even considering romantics!"

Sir Link's stony face only grew stonier, and she could have almost sworn he rolled his eyes! _Oh the nerve!_

"I found this in the Castletown Sewers," he reported with a tiresome tone, choosing ignoring her speech about love and all that nonsense. "It seemed odd to me, so I dug it up and planted it. It hasn't died yet."

Purah sighed.

"You're not very eloquent with your words, you know? Where's your sense of manly romance? Woo me, Hero, woo me!" But his stern expression spoke far better for him than his mouth ever did. And so, with a laugh, Purah at last let the silly situation run its course and the joke die out, as all good jokes do. Of course, she knew he didn't love her. What a preposterous idea it… However, it was just too funny a situation to pass up!

And teasing Knights was her specialty, mind you.

"Fine, fine, fine," Purah huffed. "I'm impressed, Hero, no one has ever managed to successfully transplant a Silent Princess before, the conditions for proper cultivation are highly selective at best―soil acidity levels, integral composition and just the right amount of sun, etcetera―I imagine a seedling must have worked its way down in the soot of the sewers via the storm drains, but that doesn't explain how it got ample sunlight. How was it―?"

Purah stopped. Sir Link's blank expression clued her in on the fact that he wouldn't understand the very exact science of botany anyways, nor would he be very interested.

"Well, forget all that, what do you plan to do with it? You must understand the value of the plant you have in your hand, correct? It shouldn't just sit on your desk in the dark dungeon you call your room you know?" Sir Link's lips thinned with thought. He seemed to struggle finding the right words.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "I guess…"

"Hmm?" Purah leaned in, tipping her glasses down to get a better close-up look at the Silent Princess.

"The Princess mentioned how interested she was in these types of flowers," he finally said. "But…"

"But you learned what giving a Silent Princess to someone means, yes?" Purah broke out into a rougish grin from pointy ear to pointy ear when he nodded awkwardly. Oh, the heavens be blessed, she wanted to roll on the floor with laughter, and in fact she did, unabashedly, much to the Hero's well-hidden impatience, and perhaps even his embarrassment―if one could call a stony frown the look of humiliation!

"It wouldn't be appropriate," Sir Link protested, like any good little Knight would, and was doing so with flawless indifference. "I thought that maybe you could present it to her as a hopeful experiment. Leave my involvement out of it. It would be better that way, would it not?"

"Why not just explain your situation to the Princess, huh?" Purah countered. "She's a smart girl, she'll know the difference if you tell her. You can _both_ be professional." It really was as simple as that, only a fool or a child would think it otherwise. After all, no one really gave any weight to those sorts of things anymore, it was an antiquated way of thinking. But Link didn't seem to agree. As always, he simply shook his head.

Purah huffed and puffed again. A flower was a flower nowadays, which held no more value apart from how pretty or rare it was, or what scientific benefits it could bring, at least in her eyes.

However, in that same moment a rather sad thought occurred to the Sheikah. She couldn't help but wonder if it would break poor Zellies heart if Link insisted if his gift was all for merely academic purposes. She had so clearly begun the slow and terrible process of falling for the doting fool! Purah questioned if perhaps it was better if she did as he asked after all. The alternative would have proven to be rather counterproductive…

Besides, she wasn't so convinced of Link's excuses either!

And so, still grinning, Purah at last accepted the small clay pot in her hands, a whole host of wonderful ideas popping into her head with every passing second. Just how _would_ she give this little flower to Zellie, she wondered? Oh, there were just too many positively devious paths she could take, many of which she was certain Sir Link wouldn't approve of…

"I'll do it," Purah said, brightly. "But it'll come at a price." Sir Link's eyebrows furrowed, as they always did, but he did eventually nod sharply. And not a moment after that, he simply turned to leave without so much as a goodbye, and Purah had to set chase after him. _Oh, the nerve indeed!_ "Where are you off to, then?" she hollered.

"To Zora's Domain, with the Princess," the Hero answered over his shoulder as he marched out into the green field beyond the laboratory pathway, taking his horse's bridal in left hand. He hadn't even tied the beast up; it must have been a very loyal, or _very_ well-trained horse to not run off. Most likely it was both.

"You didn't even ask what my price was," Purah shouted back, tucking the little clay pot in her arm as she hopped down after him, from paving stone to paving stone which made the little pathway that led to her laboratory.

"I'll pay whatever it is in full when I return," he replied. "I'm not exactly a rich man."

"Keep your rupees, you old goat. What's in that head of yours is what I'm after, I am as much a student of psychology as I am a student of science, and in your case the two seem very intertwined! Tell me, who else in our long history has gotten the chance to pick at the brain of _the_ Hero?"

"The Princess has said much the same before," he replied. In a way, Purah almost thought he meant to convey it as a joke or jab, but she couldn't quite say for sure. If it _was_ a joke, he had said it very dryly. He was such an odd little boy, but that was precisely what was so interesting about him.

"I'm sure she has, she is my protégé after all! Remember my price, Hero, I am a frightfully relentless debtee." She couldn't be sure he had heard that last part; his horse's hooves beat against the soft earth in a rhythmic thumping noise too loud for that, and Link made no attempt to call back to her or reply.

Before long, Purah's surprise guest vanished as quickly as he had come over the rolling green hills on his way south and then east to the castle, where undoubtedly would prepare for the long journey to the mountain rivers and lakes of Zora's Domain.

* * *

Heyo! Sorry for the long wait! Work really picked up this month, but by next month things should be winding down a little bit hopefully! Anyways, just wanted to drop a small line to thank you for your patience. Hopefully the wait wasn't too long!

Something to look forward to, though, is that next chapter we get to see our little Zora friend and resident Champion, Mipha, once more, and I have a couple little plans lined up for that I'm looking forward to implementing! My hope to involve the other champions into the story more, to flesh out their characters better! Till then, have a great November!

Cheers,

-Bold


	53. Book 3 Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Age Old Secrets

A smile was rarely a hard thing for the Zora Princess to find, but on this spring day her grinning felt nearly continuous. It had been well over five months since she had last seen Link and Princess Zelda, and their recent arrival was reason enough to be ecstatic. Of course, she did well to remain as composed and consciousness as she could―old Muzu was a downright stickler when it came to courtly manners―but she was not wholly prim and proper _all_ the time.

No, such things were beyond her, but _that_ was never something bothered Mipha very much. There were of course times to act in a dignified manner, in the name of service to one's people, and then there were times when all one needed was a touch of informality and no small amount of good honest fun. Yes, the Zora Princess relished in these little moments of royal life that were not dictated by such pressing matters such as appearance and custom, even if it gave old Muzu a heart attack.

' _A Princess never stops being a Princess, even in the privacy of her own pond,'_ was what Muzu always said. And for the most part she was happy to play along. After all, a Princess _should_ act on behalf of her people, and that meant performing the part as earnestly and bravely as one could, but who was to say a little fun couldn't be sprinkled in? What harm could that possibly bring?

And so, keeping that in heart and mind, Mipha had set out to make this day as exciting and enjoyable as she could.

The only problem now was that her oldest and dearest friend had grown up to be as glum and reserved as old persnickety river mollusk. Standing with the tips of his boots just shy of the pond water, Link was as rigid and silent as a statue, gazing out endlessly into the churning waters of Zora's Domain; a mute sentry bound to such a position by his own decision or his sense of stoic duty. More likely than not, it was a mixture of the two when concerning Link.

Regardless of that however, the young Hylian did a _fine_ job of always being present and ready to move at a moment's notice, yet he nearly always stood just far enough out as to give Mipha and Zelda some privacy to talk. The hilt of his sword glistened in the late evening sun every so often, when the light caught it just right, and his long hair gently fluttered in the cool spring breeze of the Upper Zorana mountain ponds, but besides that he remained entirely unchanging. His utter and total composure would have impressed even old Muzu if the old badger didn't despise the boy so much. Mipha hated it.

Despite her very best efforts, Sir Link had politely declined every request to swim or even sit down and relax to enjoy the cool mountain breeze. He had become even so much more stubborn than before in that regard, and the Zora Princess had a few guesses as to why. Most of them centered around that _blade_ resting on his back, but others involved his new traveling companion and charge.

At any rate, Link had made his stance perfectly clear: He was to remain vigilant and watch over the Princess as she went about her day, never leaving her side for longer than absolutely necessary. Mipha ignored the dull sting of jealously of that revelation.

Then again, that was his job she supposed. But that didn't mean he couldn't come and wade into the delightful waters of Zora's Domain, did it? Apparently, it did. At least in his mind.

Luckily, there was some good news in all this at least; he and Princess Zelda had been getting along much better as of late, in all manners. The Princess claimed that ever since Sir Link had saved her from the hands of the Yiga they had made great progress towards securing a mutual understanding of one another. Zelda even dared to say―with only some small hesitancy―that they had become good friends. Not close yet, but good friends. Although she had just as hard a time getting anything out of Link as Mipha did.

This had become a reoccurring topic of discussion between the two young women.

"He's especially quiet today," Mipha noted in a near-whisper as she swam over to where Princess Zelda labored to identify and study a cropping of rare water lilies. She stood nearly knee deep in the water, bare-footed and trousers rolled up as to not wet them, Sheikah Slate in hand ready to take as many pictures as she could. The Princess was endearingly interested in all manners of plants and animals.

"Yes, he _is_ especially quiet today," Zelda agreed with a small sigh, lips frowning on one side. "Even by his standards. I believe Sir Link's been very stressed lately."

"Stressed?"

Zelda nodded, returning to her work intently. "Of course, he won't tell me anything," she continued, turning over one of the larger water lilies to examine its underside. "He always insists everything is in perfect order, like any good soldier would." Given her tone, Zelda hadn't meant it in a particularly favorable light, but there wasn't any sharpness to it either.

Mipha glanced out to Sir Link again as if to try piece together the enigma that was the man she once knew well. It was only then that she noticed that he was more often than not fixated on a particular waterfall. A thought occurred to the young Zora then. A rather unpleasant one at that, which she tried to keep to herself.

But, she must have made a sad face, for just as Mipha tried to press it out of her mind, Zelda bent up from her work with a curious tilt of the head and asked, "Is something the matter?"

"Its…" Mipha hesitate, worried that she would speak out of line concerning the tragic event that had led Link away from the Domain for so many years. He never spoke of Sir Hamish since the day they both went down the waterfall. In fact, he hadn't spoken much since then at all, and Mipha couldn't say just how much Princess Zelda knew. She would have hated to betray anything Link would rather keep quiet.

The unfortunate thing was, however, was that Mipha was never very good at keeping secrets. They had a nasty habit of just rolling off her tongue without her knowing, and before you could say toad and jump she would have told the whole story in a breath and a half.

"I should have thought of it sooner," she huffed, admonishing herself. "D-do you remember Sir Hamish?" The Hylian Princess's face furrowed with concern, and then after a moment, cautious recollection.

"Yes… yes, of course," she said in hushed tones. "I'm afraid it just slipped my mind for a moment. It's been a long while since I last heard his name, or about how he passed." Zelda looked back over her shoulder to her Knight and found him still fixated on the very same waterfall Sir Hamish fell from. "I didn't even think to ask if coming here would bother him."

"So you know?" Mipha asked. "You know about what happened?"

"Only bits and pieces," Zelda replied solemnly. "I've never had the courage to ask… nor found the appropriate time. Link is a very private man―and I'm usually all for pestering him for even a glimpse of anything that goes on in that head of his―but I didn't want to press him too hard for _that_ memory…" The Princess faltered for a moment, her solemn expression growing sadder. "I understand what it feels like. To lose family."

"Family?" the Zora said confusedly.

Princess Zelda gave Mipha an odd look then, almost a mixture of shock and guilt, and then with a good deal of thinking opened her mouth to speak again. "I thought you knew," she whispered even quieter than before. "About Link's lineage." A long silence grew between them, neither party knowing quite what to say. It took a moment of building courage before Mipha spoke again.

"W-we must know very different things, Princess," she finally replied after some time, swallowing anxiously. "Sir Hamish was only Link's mentor, was he not? And Link his Ward? We all thought it so brave and selfless of Sir Hamish to risk his own life to save Link when he fell down the waterfall… A master giving his life for a servant is no small sacrifice. We were all deeply wounded by his passing."

"I…" Zelda hesitated, eyebrows knotting with meticulous thought. She almost appeared to be speaking her mind out loud than really trying to converse, as if it helped her puzzle out the problem in her head.

"It seems we _do_ know very different things," Zelda continued. "Of course, I had my suspicions. The Hamish family―well, Lady Hamish really―seemed especially keen on blaming Sir Hamish's death on Link, though they would not openly say so… I didn't know the reason he fell from the waterfall was to save Sir Link. We all thought it was just a freak accident."

"Oh it was a terrible accident," Mipha suddenly piped and then quickly clapped a hand over her mouth fearing she had spoken to loud. Luckily Link showed no signs of hearing them at all.

"A horrible accident," she continued. "You see, when we were much younger Link and I always used to go swimming, and one summer Sir Hamish decided to bring his daughter―Lady Arin, if you know her. Link was tasked with escorting her about the Domain. She was quite an adventurous spirit and leapt on the opportunity to swim with us Zora… Link was opposed to the idea at first, he thought Sir Hamish would be displeased if we brought her along… Which he was. Very displeased."

Zelda leaned in to hear better, eyes curious and haunted.

"Yet, he gave in, and we all went to one of the deeper pools just north of here… It was such a merry time for a long while, but when Arin's father found out where we had gone, he grew very cross with Link and ordered him and Arin to get out of the water immediately. Link was standing on an outcropping at the head of the waterfall by that point―he was so very fearless of heights, even as a child―and when Link…" Mipha paused to swallow. It hadn't occurred to her how dry her mouth had become, nor how her heart beat nervously. Visions of that day seemed to flash before her eyes more vividly than they had done in years.

"When Link turned to swim back to the shore, he slipped on a loose rock and hit his head. He lost all consciousness and began drifting towards the falls. I was not fast enough to catch him and…" Shame twisted in chest. "And when he went over, I was too petrified of the height to dive down after him… But Sir Hamish did not waste a second. He dove in after him, taking the perilous fall to the bottom. He survived just long enough to get Link to safety before being drug under by the currents."

Princess Zelda shuddered a breath as if a cold had come over her. Hey eyes ached of a somber sadness.

"The rest… I'm sure you know…" Mipha sank deep into the water, till her eyes sat just above the ripples. All the warmth and joyful feelings of before had seeped away. Remembrance was such a sobering experience. "Looking back now I can only regret not being brave enough."

"This explains much," Zelda finally said sadly. "I'm sorry I've made you retell this, I'm sure it must have been very traumatic for you…" The young Hylian looked back at her companion. "And for him. I can't even imagine."

"You made me say nothing, Princess," Mipha replied, blinking away a faint wetness in her eyes. "I have never been very good at secrets, once I start, I can never seem to stop. But, please, don't tell Link you know. He would know exactly who told him. I… I hate that I betrayed him, I just have such a loose―"

"I won't, Mipha," the Princess assured her, placing a gentle hand on the Zora's shoulder. She felt better then, Zelda had such calming and sincere eyes. "And if it comes up naturally, I will simply lie and tell him I puzzled it together on my own. After all, there have been rumors whispered about the castle ever since Link drew the Master Sword. It's not _that_ outlandish that I would come upon that conclusion."

"Thank you." Mipha had to take a deep breath before her nerves finally settled, but in time she rose out of the water, and sat beside Zelda in the shallows to think. So, Sir Hamish was Link's father? She never would have thought it, though picturing it in her head now it seemed right. They had the similarly shaped nose, if her memory served correctly, and of course his stoical mannerism could nearly rival Link's. _Almost._ Still, it had come as a surprise to her, and it took the better part of a half hour before she spoke again, asking the Princess, "How do you know Sir Hamish was Link's father? Did he tell you?"

"He told my father," Zelda answered, brushing aside her golden hair from her face. "I don't really know why. I suppose he felt it was the right thing to do. Naturally they chose to keep it hidden, out of respect for the Hamish Family and their name, but many of the King's Council already knew it themselves. Link was conceived illegitimately… They were the ones that found out in the first place, all those years ago."

"Is that why he was raising Link to be their Ward?"

"Yes… Knightly honor requires it… Like a price paid for the crime of infidelity. Sir Hamish either had to provide for his bastard child or face public trial. It would have tarnished his otherwise good name and face."

"I can't believe it," Mipha breathed. "Do you think…"

And on their conversation went till the sun began its slow decline to the mountain peaks, casting brilliant golden light on the land. It had once again become a peaceful spring evening in Zora's Domain. Unfortunately, however, neither Princesses knew that Link had very keen ears.

He of course said nothing, it was wrong of him to even listen in the first place, but there he stood silently all them same, as guilty an eavesdropper as the next. There was no point in being upset about it now, what was said had been said. What sense was there in being mad at Mipha now? She never was very good at keeping secrets anyway, it was a wonder she had lasted this long at all.

With an unheard sigh, Link scanned the mountainside as he had done a hundred times that day, squinting at the intense sunlight. He could only hope the Princess didn't expect him to share his feelings on the matter, now that she knew the full story. Oh, how her endless questions and proddings would be ever so precise and calculated now. He feared she would have him figured out by the end of the year. If the Calamity didn't strike before then, that is.

Link felt a terrified chill pass through him at the mere thought of it… It made his head ache worse.

* * *

I'm back, and so is Mipha!

As always, thank you all so much for every single review, its always a joy to receive them, and the feedback is always appreciated. Hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving (for those in the US) even though I am terribly late to that whole party. Sorry about that. Anyways, here's to a great December, and happy holidays!

Cheers,

-Bold


	54. Book 3 Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Mipha's Touch

Looking up at the arched roof and expansive chambers of Divine Beast Vah Ruta, Mipha, Zelda, and Link took a moment to catch their breath after their long climb up the mountain to the small lake in which Ruta rested. It was a little darker than before now, in the late evening sun, but there was still a good enough trickle of golden light streaking through the wide windows and doorways littered about the monolithic machine that allowed them to see well enough.

It wasn't long till Mipha inclined her head up to Zelda, curious as to what she was planning to do.

"What is it you hope to find out, Princess?" It was strange now, Mipha thought, having to look up at Zelda and Link. She remembered a time not so long ago that she was taller than her Hylian companions respectively; the difference between Zora and Hylian growth was such an interesting subject to note. And yet in such short years they had both sprung up like wild grass. Link especially.

Of course, in due time―give or take a hundred years―she would eventually tower over them. Unlike Hylians, _Royal_ Zora would never stop growing for their while life, even after the end of their _customarily_ understood _"_ pubescent" years. After all, her father was nearly as tall and wide as a small house in his middle age of two-hundred and twenty-three, it would only be natural that she and her brother Sidon would follow in his place. Still, Mipha found it hard to imagine herself being taller than Link…

Not that she would ever see that day, sadly. Hylians rarely ever aged past a century, unlike their Sheikah counterparts, but Mipha tried to keep such thoughts out of her mind. It was better to focus on the present rather than fear for the future; an anecdote that surprisingly came from her crotchety yet beloved teacher, Muzu. The way she saw it― _the better way_ really―was that she would be able to look her close friends right in the eyes on near equal grounds for the entirety of their precious time together.

Mipha felt comforted then.

"I'm not exactly sure what I plan to find," Princess Zelda said, a glint of excitement in her jade eyes. "My only hope is that what I find is what I should be looking for." Mipha gave the Princess a perplexed look, to which she laughed at.

"I know, a bit of a tongue twister, but it is my aim. I would like to take note of anything interesting in the inner workings of Vah Ruta and, if you will allow me, to observe the bond between you two… How you work together, how you move. You were the fastest learner when it came to piloting the Divine Beasts, poor old Daruk had to scratch his head a few times before he could figure it out."

"Daruk told me Link helped him get a hang of it," Mipha reported beamingly. Having only then entered their conversation, Link shrugged his shoulders dismissively, offering little more then a thin-lipped expression… A rather endearing look, she thought.

Zelda seemed to think the same, given her sheltered grin.

"Is that so?" the Princess asked, glancing over her shoulder to the boy. "What did you do to help?"

"Well…" Link paused, as if to think, hands trying to find a way to gesture his answer. "I offered encouragement... Daruk did the rest." Zelda crooked an eyebrow at him, but she didn't press him for any more than that, knowing she wouldn't get much more. Sir Hamish never stood for Link over appraising his own actions as a child; the tendency of bragging had been hammered out of him years ago. Regrettably, Mipha had good reason to believe it left him incapable of accepting praise of any sort, great or small.

"I think he's just being humble," Mipha whispered to Zelda before poking Link's side, disappointingly to no effect. He used to be so ticklish there as a boy.

"Humble, hm?" the Princess said openly. "Yes, I suppose he is, in many ways. To a fault, even. Though I think our young Knight is not quite humble as one would be led to believe." To Mipha's surprise, Link suddenly shot the Princess a rather stern look then that spoke far more words than his tongue ever would. Naturally it piqued Mipha's interest immensely.

"What do you mean by that, Princess?"

"What indeed?" the Princess said in reply, her eyes showing a faint sign of a teasing smile and yet also a sense of disappointment in her companion. "He seems very opposed to asking for help when he needs it, don't you think Mipha? Especially when there are those who have talents that can drastically improve the situation?" Zelda cast a knowing eye on her companion, but he did not seem to budge under her pressure. Not an inch.

"Oh―" Mipha harrumphed. "I've never been very good at these word games, Princess… What's wrong?"

"You'll have to ask Sir Link," Zelda said, feigning a distracted tone as she began to examine the inner walls of Vah Ruta. "He won't say a word about it to me, despite my asking… but I suspect his arm has been bothering him ever since his exciting run-in with the Hyrule Underground market. He fiddles with it when he thinks no one is looking, he favors his other arm for any and all work entirely, _and_ the reports I read of the incident did speak of physical altercations, all of which involve Link."

Zelda paused briefly, and then in a more serious manner said, "I'd hate him to be hurting and say nothing about it for prides sake, wouldn't you?" Mipha could have sworn she heard Link sigh impatiently.

"Link… _Are_ you hurt anywhere?" The boy gave it a long and ungrateful thought, yet after a time finally he acquiesced a very short but definitive nod. It was not the first time Mipha had seen Link gesture in this way. In fact, it was all too familiar. Memories of summers spent so long ago came flooding in.

Link always was a little prideful when it came to asking for help. From scraped knees to broken fingers, he would have preferred suffering through the pain than admitting he was hurting at all in the first place. He and his friends, they all thought toughing it out made them more like men, and less like children.

Ironically, it was a boyish pride so few men seemed to grow out of.

"Come along," Mipha sighed, leading Link away by the hand. He made no audible protest, but his stony face painted a picture colorful enough. "I need to be somewhere I can focus to perform Healing magic."

"I'll be here if you need me," Princess Zelda shouted to them, sounding well pleased and amused. "Don't be too long, I'll need your help soon."

* * *

"How did it happen?" Link's arm had been tightly bandaged beneath his right sleeve―too tightly, actually―and although the wound spoke of a weeks' worth of healing done, Mipha could sense traces of an oncoming infection festering beneath the surface. But she would make quick work of it all the same, even if it would drain her energy a little.

"A broken bottle," Link answered simply. "He used the shattered end as a weapon."

"That explains the ugliness of it," Mipha piped. The image in her head made her stomach turn a little. It must have been excruciating. "I'm surprised he managed to hurt you at all. He must have been a remarkable fighter to get you at odds."

"He was an old man."

"Old?" Mipha rose a brow at him.

"I had my hands full," Link replied in defense.

"Well, the Princess tells me you went in alone, quite carelessly too," the Zora girl teased. "You could have asked for help, you know. I'm sure a whole army of soldiers would have volunteered to help _the Hero_ wash out some seedy bandits." Link's face soured. Perhaps the Princess had a point, maybe there was a little sense of pride still buried under all those stony mannerisms of his. A different sort of pride, that is.

"I was thinking," Mipha continued once it was apparent Link didn't plan on commenting on her suggestions. "This reminds of the time we first met. You were just a reckless child. Always getting yourself hurt at every turn. Every time I would heal you, just as I'm doing right now." Slowly, the broken skin that had scabbed over Link's arm began to shift and move wherever her hand worked its magic. Even the strained creases in his face began to smooth over as pain left his body, just as it did when he was a boy.

Although, sadly, it had lost that once familiar look of awe and wonder.

"I thought it funny how, being a Hylian, you looked grown up so much faster than I did. I was… I was always willing to heal your wounds. Even back then." By then, his wound had sealed itself up, and what was once marred and festering skin was now smooth and unblemished. Not a scratch or scar to be found. She could only pray that it would be the worst wound he would ever sustain.

"So," she said sullenly as thoughts that had been haunting her mind ever since she agreed to pilot Vah Ruta began swirling inside her head, tormenting her with restless nights. "If this Calamity Ganon ever does, in fact return, what can we really do?"

Link's eyes didn't have an answer.

"We just don't seem to know much about what we'll be up against. But know this: that no matter how difficult this battle might get… If you―if anyone tries to do you harm―then I will heal you. No matter when, or how bad the wound. I hope you know that I will always protect you." The young Zora girl hesitated then, unsure of how she could speak her heart clearly. Time had changed so much between them; she had become aware of how difficult it was to find the same confidence speaking to Link.

All the same, she took a chance, regardless of the consequences.

"Once this whole thing is over, maybe things can go back to how they used to be, when we were young. You know…" Mipha swallowed. "Perhaps we could spend some time together." It was a rough start to what she really wanted to say, but it more or less did the job. The only problem was that there was a hesitation in Link's gaze, and a furrow in his brow that sucked up what boldness she had left, and in its place grew an unsettling discomfort…. He did answer, however, in time.

"If Hyrule casts me aside once this fight is settled," Link said, "I think a summer spent here would be more than manageable."

"You promise?" she asked, with perhaps naïve hope.

"I'll do my best," he answered, covering his heart conciliatory. "I promise."

"Then that will have to do for now." Shaking off the sad feeling turning in her chest, Mipha rose to her feet and took a gander at the water well beneath them from the high-up trunk of Vah Ruta. The breeze felt good on her skin. She had become unbearably hot from _that_ conversation. "We should get back to the Princess, I bet she'll be needing me about now."

"Mipha." The Zora paused, and turned. He would not meet her eyes, and what he tried to say came out nearly as quiet as a whisper. It was obvious Link rather not say what was on his mind. "Can I… ask you a favor?"

"Of course," Mipha shrilled. She couldn't remember the last time he asked her for a favor.

"Do you remember those headaches I used to get?" Link omitted the part that they came after his dreadful fall down the Zorana cascades. "Do you think…?"

"Are they back?" Mipha rushed to his side, outstretching both hands to gently touch the crown of his head. Instantly she felt a terribly dull ache working its way though the tips of her fingers. She scolded herself for not noticing it before. "When did this start happening?"

"In the winter. Rarely. And they were manageable."

"But they're worse now?" Mipha finished, to which Link nodded.

"That old man may or may not have broken the bottle on my head before using it as a weapon. Since then it's been nearly non-stop." Were she not so worried, Mipha would have made sure to give that _boy_ a stern talking to about taking care of himself! Hero or no Hero, he―

Well, she gave him a piece of her mind anyways!

"Why didn't you tell me this right away, Link? As soon as you got here! Not to mention the arm."

"I was going to," he protested firmly, thought she wasn't sure she believed him. "When I found an appropriate time." Hylia above, the young Zora could only force a collective sigh for the idiocy of men! Two counts now Princess Zelda had proven her point; how could someone be so self-modest yet dangerously prideful at the same time?

Or was it something else? Curse it all if she knew.

"You're more reckless now than you were as a child," Mipha sighed, calling forth her Healing magic once more, setting her aim on the deepest pains stabbing at Link's head. It felt as if she were pressing against a brick wall, but in time what little power she had began to break through and heal whatever pain she could. This, regrettably, was a wound she could never seem to fully cure, only treat.

When her work was done, Link closed his eyes and took a deep, _relieved,_ sigh. His shoulders relaxed, his head hung loosely, and every following breath came easier than the last. He may have been an utter fool, but it did make Mipha happy to see him unburdened by such unbearable pains.

"I want one more promise from you, Link." The Hero spared a single cracked-open eye. "If there's anything― _anything at all―_ that is bothering you, you tell me right away. I… I won't stand to have you taking on more than you should. We are Hyrule's Champions, we are a team you know. I am here for you as much as you are here for me, or Daruk, or Urbosa―"

"Even Revali?" he asked, wryly.

"Yes, even Revali! Now say it. Say you promise you'll tell me right away if you're hurting. Physically or otherwise." And until Link finally said those very words, Mipha put her foot down adamantly, not giving in an inch. Naturally, the Hero was the first to buckle and admit defeat.

It would only be a test of honesty now… Link had been a very convincing liar as a child.


	55. Book 3 Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Kakariko

There was something to be said about Mipha's Healing powers; Link's mood had visibly improved ever since they had left Zora's Domain free of wounds. He no longer avoided use of his right arm, and he was far more responsive― _nearly_ conversational if Zelda dared to say so. Spirits were feeling high. Not that the same could be said for Mipha, the poor dear looked like she would cry when they had to say their goodbyes that morning, eyes downcast and doleful. Even King Dorephan, her father, was notably saddened by their brief parting. That old Royal had enough sentimentality to compete with his impressive size, and not a bone of shyness about it in his body.

Apparently, the Zora Royal Family was far closer to Link than she had originally thought.

In fact, Zelda was shocked but so very amused when the Zora King nearly strangled Sir Link in a surprise hug. It reminded her of the sort of brotherly hugs the Goron were so well known for, especially those given by Daruk. As with _those_ hugs, Link tensed every muscle just to not be crushed, his face turning red as he waited patiently until he would be able to breathe unrestricted once more, gasping a faint 'thank you for your hospitality,' or 'till next time.'

Oh, how the Princess laughed until it was her turn!

Lucky for them both, however, Mipha's goodbye embrace was of a much softer quality. Shy as she was, the young Zora ventured to kiss them both on the cheek before squeezing them tightly with her little arms. Link seemed the most surprised by that kiss, but he did not openly protest. He instead stood there with an awkward rigidness as if no one had ever shown him that sort of affectionate goodbye before. And well, it could have very well possibly been so.

Distantly, Zelda wondered if would be appropriate to ever say goodbye to him in the same way…

The thought made something stir beneath her skin. It was by no means a fleeting image in her head. However other business soon came to occupy her attention. Sidon, Mipha's baby brother made quite the show of his goodbye. While he was far too trepid to whisper anything more than a short 'bye,' Sidon presented both Zelda and Link with a pair of necklaces made from various species of brightly colored river mollusk shells and immaculate pearls.

The young boy's indominable and emerging smile was proof enough of his pride in his gift, though he was quick to slink away behind his sister when shyness struck him once again. Zelda gave him many sincere thanks; it was clear he had spent many hours collecting and stringing the shells and pearls together himself.

The Princess felt a little melancholy then, leaving he companions behind, but it wasn't a feeling that stuck around too horribly long. They were back on the road once more, and there was a long journey ahead of them, filled with many destinations. Most of which Zelda was looking forward to.

"Have you ever been to Kakariko Village?" She asked Link, who had scanned their surroundings intently and found no threats among the green rolling hills heading east. He rode a little easier.

"A handful of times," he answered. "I sometimes passed through for work, after I left the Hamish Estate."

"What sort of work?"

"Hunting contracts, mostly." Link shifted in his saddle to face the Princess a little better. If felt right seeing him like this, he had been such a bore on their trip up to the Domain. Sir Link could have made a profession out of brooding, the way he did then. But she supposed she couldn't blame him, how Mipha described his wound it must have been quite uncomfortable for him.

"Hunting contracts," the Princess repeated curiously. "Like wildlife contracts? Was there not enough work for you in Hateno… before you came to the Castle?" Link shrugged his shoulders.

"Sometimes work could be scarce," he said, "rupees even more so. I took what work I could if there wasn't anything local." Zelda tried to picture Link as a huntsman… but it didn't seem to fit just right. True, he must have been a perfectly capable hunter, but she couldn't imagine him as being anything other than a Knight.

"What sort of animals did you hunt?" Link gave her questions a pause, head tilting slightly as he tried to recall his memory.

"I hunted a bear once," he finally said. "A great Black Bear."

"Why am I not surprised," Zelda teased.

"Kakariko had quite the problem for a while," he explained. "Their food stores were regularly broken into, cuccos disappeared nearly every night," Link made a gesture with his hand. "Their not-so-friendly neighborhood beast could claw its way through just about any door; pulling them right off the hinges. So, the town hired me to take care of it."

"Did they not send their own hunters after the beast?" The Princess asked.

"They did…" Link replied, seriously. "But most came back fatally injured, others didn't come back at all. And after that, they didn't want to send any of their own. Understandably so."

"That's sad to hear. Kakariko is such a small, close-knit community. Everyone knows everybody there, I'm sure their losses must have been hard." Link nodded in agreement with her.

"I have reason to believe it was sick," he added. "Physically. Mentally."

"What makes you say that?" Zelda asked curiously.

"Well," he mused aloud. "I've never seen a wild beast act so… erratically before. Normally bears hibernate during the winter, yes? Well, this one did not. It spent nearly the whole winter season hunting and ravaging what it could, through snows that came up to the hip. And when I finally managed to track it and kill the beast it was nearly bone thin… And its den…" Link shook his head, as if in a mild disgust. "It wasn't a pretty sight."

"How so?" the Princess prodded. Link made a face that asked if she really wanted to know the answer. Of course, she insisted, Zelda had never heard of bears behaving this way, it was her scientific duty to collect such peculiar data!

With a clear reluctance, Link answered in a low and quiet tone.

"The smell alone turned my stomach. And the cuccos it stole were rarely eaten; dead mounds just left to rot whole. Something was wrong with that beast," he restated. "The bear's fur came out in handfuls, and the flesh was foul by smell alone. I'd like to believe I put it out of its misery, it was very sickly."

That certainly did paint an ugly picture worthy of turning Zelda's stomach. Something must have been _very_ wrong with the poor beast. "It sounds horrible. But I'm glad you came out unscathed, I'm not sure where we would all be if the Hero had been mauled by a mad bear. Or any beast for that matter."

"I've come close more times than I would like," Link replied.

"Trust me, I know."

Their conversation dwindled a little bit after that; it was time for something less gruesome. Zelda took the opportunity to take in the landscape around them, the mountains eastern Hyrule were quite a sight in their own right―they were far greener than the sapphire mountains of Zora's Domain―and in the peak of spring they were quite beautiful. Wildflowers sprouted at nearly ever crop and bend in the road, trees sprouted in magnificent shades of emerald and jade, and in the middle of it all life flourished.

It made the Princess wished she could have spent as much time out in the wild as her companion had, hunting, working, and adventuring. Instead she was chained to a castle more often than not, kneeling in prayer pools in the early hours till her knees ached. Oh, how differently they had grown up.

"What an interesting life you have led," Zelda sighed. Link gave her a puzzled look. "In such short time you have been a Ward, a hunter, a common man, and now a Knight. You must have many more stories to tell, I'd love to hear them."

"I'm afraid you have heard all the interesting ones, Princess," Sir Link replied, though Zelda wasn't sure that statement was entirely the truth. As an afterthought, however, he added, "I haven't much left to tell."

"Hmm, I'm sure," the Princess teased, "though I'm regularly surprised by the tales I hear."

The day passed on slowly and gently from there. The trip from Zora's Domain to Kakariko wasn't a particularly hard one, just lengthy. By the time the sun was just dipping below the mountain peaks to the west, Zelda and her Knight turned the last rocky bend into the valley of the Sheikah. Kakariko was positively a mystical sight to see in the twilight hours.

Mystical and soothing indeed.

Gentle breezes rustled the leaves of the redbud trees, the waterways trickled with a calming trill throughout the town, and chimney smoke drifted off into the coming moonlight, the faint smells of food simmering on the fireplace.

Small lanterns made of a richly colored paper were the many of sources of light that lit the way through the town now that the sun had nearly gone. In row after row the lights hung on ropes that sloped from eave to eave of the villager's homes like the elaborate web of a spider, so that no corner was truly dark. They produced a soft light that was easy and pleasing to the eye, as inviting and warm as its designers.

And fittingly with such a sight, an elderly Sheikah woman crossed their path, and although she shuffled more than walked, bent over an old cane with and a wicker basket clutched in the other arm, she took the time to spare a smile that spoke of a genuine kindness one would associate with a grandmotherly figure.

"Welcome travelers," she said, squinting her eyes at them to help her aged vision focus. "What brings outsiders here so late in the evening?"

"We are here to see the Elder Impa," Zelda answered, slipping off her horses saddle so that she could speak with the old lady on the same level. Link followed shortly behind her and relieved her of her horse's reins.

"Ah," the Sheikah sighed, raising a boney finger to point further into town. "Impa has many visitors. You'll find her in the Elder's Pagoda at the center of town. Though I'm afraid she doesn't take guests after sunset. Maybe you would like to stop by my son's inn and find a room?" Her eyes grinned with delight as she got a better look at Zelda's face.

"My," she reveled with a breath, chuckling to herself. "What a pretty young lady you are. You really must meet my grandson, he's just come home not two days ago. He's a very well to do man, you know? In service to the King himself." The woman's eyebrow began to climb impishly. "He's so very handsome, and he has a lovely singing voice, too. I'm sure he would gladly sing a song for such a nice lady as yourself if you came to visit."

"Oh," Zelda exclaimed, albeit with no small amount of awkwardness. While it wasn't as if she was unaccustomed to such offerings, the mother's of well-to-do Knights often made similar gestures in court, it felt different and strange hearing it come from an old Sheikah who didn't even know who she really was. It was flattering, in a way, but still peculiar.

"I'm sure your son's inn would be delightful," Zelda excused. "But I'm afraid Impa is expecting me tonight, I wouldn't want to be rude." The old lady's grin drooped a little, but she kept good spirits about her.

"Of course, dear," she said, patting Zelda on the cheek. "Don't mind an old woman like, I prattle on like a wishful naïve girl. Go on, child, if Impa is expecting you as her _special_ guest, its best you do not keep her waiting. She can be very impatient, you know?" With a quick shuffle and a laugh, the old woman then drew close to Link and patted him on the cheek as well, remarking the blade on his back with a curious sparkle in her eyes.

"Oh," she blew, "and if your handsome friend here needs a place, we have plenty of rooms too." The Shiekah then spoke a little more privately to Link. "Your lady must be a very important woman, young man, if she needs a fine escort such as yourself. Hylia be with you, child."

As if not knowing what else to say, Sir Link merely replied with a nod, extending out an arm for the old woman to lean on as she tried to regain her balance before continuing on her way. Zelda was certain he would have offered to walk her all the rest of the way to her destination had she not been insistent on needing no more help than that.

And so, with many goodbyes, the elderly Sheikah went on her way, shuffling along the gravel path as she headed up the road to a warmly lit thatch-roofed inn, where several patrons took their meals and drinks on the porch, leaning back in relaxing chairs, letting the stresses of a long day's travel seep away in the tranquil firelight of Kakariko as the spoke softly to one another and hummed soothing songs to themselves. Zelda almost wished she could join them under the guise of just another weary traveler, leaving behind all the necessities of royalty.

Impa, however, was quite a stickler towards duty, she would insist on things being done properly.

Wordlessly, Link trailed the Princess with horses in tow, but he did so closely. Even in the safety of the village, he did not ease up much. Given how much his eyes wandered the little nooks and high places of Kakariko with deliberation, it would be no surprise he would have already spotted the invisible sentinels: the Sheikah Shadow warriors, watching over them keenly from their perches.

"We're safe here," she reassured him. "Not so long ago the Sheikah were the original guardians of the Royal Family, you know? We could not be in better hands."

"Yes," Link replied tersely. "Until separatists formed the Yiga Clan." In an instant the Princess could feel the sentinels' eyes sharpen on them at the utterance of that title.

"Careful of your words, Sir Link," Zelda hissed quietly. "You would be greatly dishonoring them to suggest _that_. Their feud with the Yiga―their own blood turned traitorous―is a painful one. They have worked tirelessly to rebuild their reputation ever since the Separation. Do not insult them here." For a long and honest moment, Link's expression shifted beneath a mask of silence, till at last a reluctant, but sincere, acceptance took place.

"I apologize, Princess."

"It's alright," Zelda said, a little gentler. "I know you didn't mean harm. But these sorts of things are difficult to navigate, wording is everything. If you are ever unsure―"

"Do not worry, Princess," Link interrupted, making a gesture with his fingers to show that his lips were sealed indefinitely. A faint regret settled in Zelda's chest, practically speaking she had just told him to shut up… and after a whole day of him nearly speaking his mind freely. The Princess could only hope she hadn't botched their long-fought progress together.

Unfortunately, that was a problem to solve another time.

Now standing at the foot of the long staircase that led up to the Elder's Pagoda, Link and Zelda were greeted by two guards who knew their identities immediately, greeting them honorifically. The guards were quick to take the reins of their horses from Link's hand, handing them off to a young stableboy to be unsaddled and brushed. From there it was a short climb up to and through the front doors, which swung open with a low and grumbling creak.

The sweet aroma of incense and freshly brewed tea wafted past Zelda's nose. She took a deep breath and sighed with relief. Impa always did know how to welcome her guests.

"Princess, it is good to see you."

* * *

Heyo!

Long time no see, my friends. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, I know there wasn't a whole lot of plot that happened, but felt a little good slice of life was in order to solidify the developing bond between Link and Zelda. Think of this chapter as another in-between transition chapter, hopefully it wasn't boring. Anywho, I feel like this is now the point in the story I want to tell things begin to speed up.

There is still a good bit of ground to cover until we reach endgame content (The Prayer Pool Party time, Calamity's return, Champions fall, etc), but I did get a message from a reader asking how far I will take the story, and I can say I will go indefinitely to when Link is put in the Shrine and Zelda goes to fight Ganon, but I also have plans on extending into events that happen in/after the actual playable part of the game.

Now, am I going to recount every main quest in the game? Goodness no. I feel that it would be repetitive, because we have all played through the game in countless and unique ways. No one person has done everything the same. So that part of the story I want to keep relatively untouched, but I will tune in on crucial plot points, provide some exposition, and give perspective. I don't want to give away what I have planned yet, because its still in the workshop of my head, but do not fear, I do have plans, and I think (and hope) you will all enjoy it! Some of it will involve minor creative liberties. ;)

Cheers,

-Bold


	56. Book 3 Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The Elder's Advice

"Impa, it is good to see you again." Princess Zelda offered the Sheikah Elder a small curtsy, as was customary of a meeting between Royals. Not that the Elder was exactly a "Royal" in the traditional sense, but as far as they were concerned Impa was the highest ranking in the hierarchy of her people, and she had the experience to back it up. It was merely a matter of custom.

The Elder, in good graces, rose to her feet swiftly, and with a welcoming smile she bowed deeply in reply in the fashion of her own people, proper and disciplined. The formality did not last for long, however. Within seconds, Impa stepped down from the dais on which her seating-cushion rested, and reached out to Zelda's hand, gripping it firmly as she stood on her toes and patted the young woman's cheek.

As bold a woman Impa was, she barely stood taller than the Princess's elbows.

"Each year I see you, you grow to look more like your mother, dear Princess." There was a faint melancholy in those keen red eyes of hers; the late Queen and Elder had been close friends in life, and oftentimes remembering what had been lost would burden her heart. But, always being of good spirit, the sad expression in her eyes faded quickly, never once hindering the Elder's smile.

"Urbosa has said much the same," Zelda replied, squeezing Impa's hand before embracing her. It had been too long since she had last seen her. How many years, she wondered? Six, nearly seven years? It had been shortly after her mother died, Impa had traveled to Hyrule Castle for one last vigil before settling down in the village of her people as it's Elder at the _unprecedented_ young age of fifty-three.

Naturally, being Sheikah, Impa didn't exactly look fifty-three then―fifty-nine now. Although there were faint traces of crow's feet wrinkles high on her cheeks that spoke of countless stresses and long nights spent scrupulously answering correspondences, analyzing reports, and most of all, worrying about those cursed Yiga traitors. _That_ was a wound that would take generations to heal. It was deep and dividing to this day.

But that was a tale and a worry for another day, Zelda was just glad to be in company of her mother's former appointed protector.

"Urbosa," Impa tsk'd with fond recollection. "I always admired that woman. She possesses a true strength of heart many lack, even among the ranks of greater men of Hyrule. You must tell me how she is; it has been a long while since I last spoke with her."

"I would be happy to, Impa," Zelda replied. "Over dinner, perhaps? I can only hope we aren't to late, but I _am_ starving after our long ride." Impa brightened, as if she had been quite expectant of that request, and quickly motioned to a young woman in the far corner that nervously smoothed the silk sash fastened around her waist.

"Run along, tell the cook to bring our supper up, and make sure there is plenty of tea to go around."

With a jump, the young woman scurried off as she had been ordered. She was a pretty girl, Zelda remarked, though quite unrecognizable. She assumed it must have been some relative of Impa's, given the near identical markings on her cheeks and forehead―ancient symbols of the Sheikah people painted on in dark blues and reds―as was customary of their people. It was common for family to take up roles under their Elder, and often they distinguished themselves by their markings.

Usually, that is. It was not so every time… the Shiekah had peculiar traditions.

"Now," Impa declared, catching Zelda's attention once more, guiding her further into the inviting warmth of the Elder's Pagoda. "Come in and make yourself comfortable Princess. We have much to discuss. And―" The Sheikah paused and looked over Zelda's shoulder, right at Link, having only just noticed him; not that she could be entirely blamed for that, he kept himself far off in a vigilant post near the door, silent blue eyes scanning the room for trouble.

The poor boy seemed almost alarmed by the Elder's sudden interest, she did have the gaze of a hawk at times, red eyes piercing.

"It seems in my excitement I have forgotten my second guest." In a blink, Impa returned to a regal demeanor, inclining her head to the young Hero, and dipped forward, gesturing for him to join them. Link stepped forward, his boots not making a sound on the wooden floor. He was treading very lightly, from unease, or distrust, the Princess couldn't exactly say.

Probably both.

Zelda tried to imagine herself in his shoes. He was a lone guard in charge of protecting the sole heir of Hyrule, and now they were amidst the clan of Sheikah that had many troubles in the past of turncoats and separatists, of which he had the personal experience of fighting… and killing. True, as he had told her earlier that day, he had passed through Kakariko his fair share of times, but it was surely a different experience then, being on his own and without the pressing burden of guardianship looming over his shoulder.

Through that perspective, Zelda decided that perhaps his apprehensions were not _entirely_ unjustified…

But he didn't know Impa like Zelda did. Here in the Pagoda, she could never be safer than in Hyrule Castle itself, and Zelda could only hope Link would come to see it that way. He just needed time to adjust, and build new trust, that was all. She couldn't have her Knight acting jumpy and suspicious of every corner and shadow, it would drive her up the wall.

"Master Link," Impa continued, an air of familiarity washing over her expression. "It seems our paths were destined to cross again, though I sense you are not quite the same man I once met, those few years ago. You carry that Sword well, young Hero."

"Wait, you've met before?" Zelda was surprised.

"Yes, yes we have," the Sheikah replied, chuckling to herself. "Though he was here on much different terms last time we spoke, hm? He came as a huntsman and a laborer, and now he returns as the Chosen of the Golden Ones…. Times have changed."

"Elder Impa," Link said in greeting, dipping his head short a short bow. Impa replied likewise, the crook in her eyebrow noting Link's rather curt and impersonal way of speaking, but she quickly shook it off. Maybe he had once been a little more friendly before? Maybe he was _not quite_ the same man Impa remembered?

"Come, sit with me, I should like to hear tales from the both of you," the Elder began, turning to lead her guests to where soft silk cushions awaited them around a short table of quaint but sturdy make.

Spread out across the white linen draped over the table were an assortment of fine dining ware that was in its own way modest in appearance, but every cup, saucer, and plated was expertly crafted and painted in beautiful pastels depicting the redbud trees of the village. Above them hung shaded lanterns, offering the same warm and soft light of the street lanterns strung from roof to roof outside. Candlelight danced against the ornate walls of the Pagoda.

It was an inviting place to sit and eat indeed. Far more so than the cold stone walls and stiff-backed chairs of the Castle Dining Hall. Not to mention that the person sitting at the head of the table was also far warmer and inviting company. The King rarely made for particularly pleasing conversation. At least not in recent years.

Dinner soon followed once they had taken their seats, along with mugs of steaming tea that tempted their noses with refreshing smells native only to Sheikah farms. Link took pensive sips from his drink at first, but he seemed to soon forget what little worries disturbed his mind and began quickly downed his tea in gulps, finding it quite to his liking before digging into the plate set in front of him.

Dinner kept Link well occupied amusingly well for the remainder of the night, as the hours went on. Impa left him unperturbed for the duration of their meal, and instead asked Zelda of life at the Castle, how she faired, and of course how her training had come along. To the latter of the three, Zelda answered with a bleak honesty. There was no sense in keeping secrets from Impa, she could see right through lies―polite lies or otherwise―with shocking accuracy.

Not that she wanted to keep such things from her anyways. In fact she had been eagerly anticipating the Sheikah's guidance ever since they left Zora's Domain.

"When I am not on the road or working in the lab," the Princess began when the table had been cleared of plates, and only refilled steaming teacups remained. "It sometimes feels all like I do is pray in the sanctuary. And I have nothing to show for it, despite my efforts." She thinned her lips. "I do not want to make excuses… but I can help but feel frustrated." Link gave a pause, sparing her a hidden glance. Apparently, he had been listening a little more intently than she had thought.

"It feels like I'm fighting an uphill battle blindfolded; I don't even know what to aim for. I sometimes wonder if I could make more progress out there in the wild, riding day in day out on horseback, than kneeling in the prayer pools behind the castle walls."

Impa considered her words deeply, a sinewy finger curled around her chin as she thought.

"I'm afraid effort put forward would be far better than no effort at all," the Elder said plainly. "But I am not unsympathetic, Princess, I know this has been a trial for you. You see, child, the Golden One's are never ones to give blessing to those who have not sacrificed and labored. The legends of our people make this very clear. Sacrifice and reward are not exclusive of one another, but intimately intertwined."

A gentle smile reached Impa's lips.

"That said, I am confident that someday soon they will look down on you and find compassion in your devotion. Purah has sent many a letter praising you for not only your dedication to the furtherment of regaining our forgotten technologies, but also your perseverance in unlocking the Sealing Powers passed on to you through the blood of your mother. You must not lose heart."

"But surely there is something more I can do?" Zelda wondered aloud.

"There may be," Impa declared thoughtfully. The Princess perked up. "Have you ever considered a pilgrimage?"

"A pilgrimage? Of what sort?"

"A pilgrimage," the Sheikah began, "to visit the three Springs of Hylia that are scattered along the north and south eastern reaches of Hyrule. The Spring of Power beneath the watch of Death Mountain in Akkala, the Spring of Wisdom atop Mount Lanayru, and the Spring of Courage in the heart of Faron."

Now that was an interesting thought!

"I've only ever read of them," Zelda said, leaning in with intrigue. "Do you think I might find something useful there? Answers? Guidance?"

"I'm not sure you will find anything at all, Princess," Impa answered, working her face thoughtfully as she lifted a small teacup to her mouth to sip. "But it is my belief those Springs are ancient ritual sites… or at least our limited research into them has inclined us to that end. I'm afraid we cant say with any certainty what the Springs were used for exactly, only that they are considered sanctified pools.

"As I'm sure you know, _time_ is the enemy of knowledge… Things that should not be forgotten have been lost to us. Perhaps these Springs were once used as prayer pools, as same as the one within Hyrule Castle. Or perhaps they were merely built in honor of the goddesses. I am not sure we can ever say with certainty." That was a little disheartening to hear, but Impa never showed a hint of worry in her steady demeanor.

"But remember this, Princess, the goddesses work in mysterious ways. Maybe you _will_ find some hope there. Our ancestors― _your ancestors_ ―were intelligent people, I am sure they would have had the foresight to leave behind guidance. It would be wise to try our every option."

Zelda thought long and hard about what the Elder had suggested, but any doubts about it that surfaced seemed insignificant by comparison. After all, she had spent countless years trying every trick and method she could think of to awaken the Sealing Powers locked away in her inheritance, and as of late she had very little in the way of hope. Maybe it was a long shot, but then maybe Impa was right. What if a pilgrimage was the answer?

Or at least the beginning of a pathway to an answer.

"I'll do it," Zelda finally declared, and Impa chuckled with a twinkle in her eyes. That was exactly what she had been hoping for. "Though I must admit, I don't know the way to the Springs… I've never been up Mount Lanayru, not that I can imagine it would be too difficult reach, same for Akkala. But Faron Forest..."

That place was crawling with Lizalfos and Bokoblins, last _she_ heard.

"Lanayru must wait," Impa cautioned. "For it is the the Spring atop Lanayru that is dedicated to the goddess of Wisdom, child. It would be ill-practice to venture up the mountain before your seventeenth birthday: The day you are recognized as a full and wise adult in the eyes of Hylia. Akkala is simple enough to reach by horse, though it is a long ride.

"However," Impa continued, resting her chin on a closed fist to think. "Faron Forest is a dangerous place. Our researchers rarely plunge into that forest. That and the path is overgrown and difficult, you'll have to go by foot, no horse could traverse the train very quickly. And even if they tried, they're bound to injure a leg in such uneven terrain." Impa pondered a moment longer, but her ears shot up, when Link finally spoke his first words since he had begun eating.

"I know a safe way to the Spring," he offered plainly, and then creased his eyebrows when the Princess and Elder gave him anticipative looks, as if surprised he needed to say anything more.

"… I stumbled upon it once," he explained, "while working a job for a caravanner as a guide. He wanted to find, and then cut a path straight through Faron so that he could supply south Necluda without having to pass through the mountains. I can't say he was successful in founding a trail, but we did find the Spring… I'm confident can find that path again."

"I thought you said you didn't have many more interesting stories to tell," Zelda teased, "yet you are chocked-full of them. What other grand adventures have you been on?"

"He's probably just trying to be modest, child," the Elder whispered aside to the Princess, all the while hiding a grin. " _Let the boy be, you'll embarrass him._ Ahem―well Sir Link I think that fate has smiled on us once again, I am certain your experience with the land will prove most useful when the Princess embarks on her pilgrimage, just as you have guided her safely here."

Link nodded, and Impa was satisfied with his answer. Until she reclined back into a relaxed position at their table, marking a new beginning of a long line of questions sure to come.

"Well then, my loquacious friend," she said mischievously. "I have worn the Princess down with my questions, but now it is your turn to tell your tales, I have endless inquiries, we could be here all night. Would you like another cup of tea before we begin?"

Oh, how Zelda laughed when she saw the faint panic in the boy's eyes.

* * *

Kakariko took on a new spirit in the morning. Gone was the soft red torchlight of the lanterns above, and in its place came a warm sun that cast long shadows from the domed mountain peaks surrounding the village, and a cool morning breeze that fluttered the grass and leaves. Still as ever peaceful, but in a different sort of way.

It was there, leaning against a wooden gatepost, that Sir Link looked on from a distance at the Princess as she knelt before the small stone statue of Hylia at the center of town, performing her morning devotions with diligent prayer, a trickle of sweat beading down her temple despite the morning chill. She had been at it an hour already, but he hadn't moved an inch from his vantage of choosing, not even to sit or eat, no matter how much he probably wanted to.

Suddenly, however, Link felt something pull at the hem of his tunic. And when he looked down at what had caused such a fuss, he found two bright eyes staring back up at him. A child's eyes. The young girl must have been no older six or so―by his reckoning at least; Sheikah aged differently than Hylians―but she had a quiet and calm countenance about her, no doubt drawn to the strangers in her village with childish curiosities.

Link hadn't even heard her approach.

"Who's that?" she asked, glancing over at Zelda.

"The Princess," he replied.

"What's she doing?"

"Praying."

"Why?

Link blew air out of his nose softly.

"She's asking for guidance," he answered, gently, inclining his head to girl. "It's best we don't disturb her, we wouldn't want to be rude, would we?" The girl shook her head slowly, a glimmer of understanding washing over her face. But her stillness did not last long, as curious questions sure turned in her head.

"Why does she look sad?" she whispered.

Link gave a pause, unsure of how to explain it.

"She's very worried," the young Hylian replied, just barely loud enough for the girl to hear. "She cares very much for her friends and family, and she's scared she won't be able to protect them."

"Are they in danger?"

"No. Not yet. But they could be soon." The young girl pondered over his answer for a while, eyebrows curling with careful thought, her bright eyes dancing between Link and the Princess far off and a finger stroking her lips.

"But you have a sword, right?" the girl asked, craning her neck to get a better look over Link's shoulder. "If she's scared, you can help, can't you?" To that, the Hero didn't answer right away. Fears swirled in his mind. Could he really? Did he even stand a chance when the time came?

"Of course," Link said reassuringly. "Everything will turn out just fine." The young girl smiled, comforted by his answer, falling once again in a peaceful spell till a stray cucco divided her attention and she skipped off after it without a care in the world.

If only he could forget his worries that easily.

* * *

 **AN**

Hello! I'm so glad to be back! Life has been wild the last few months, and I've only recently been able to write any! At any rate, I'll be going through reviews tonight and try to catch up on what you all have been thinking and posting! If there are any particular questions, I'll try my best to get back to you. Till then, adios!

-Bold


	57. Book 3 Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

A Boy Named Milos

A fluttering warm light was what stirred young Milos from his once unwaning sleep; a flickering candle he thought at first, but one peek with a drowsy eye revealed that it was in fact his aging grandmother shuffling about near the bedroom window they shared that was causing the disturbance in the light. The old hoot never did seem very keen on keeping a _normal_ person's sleep schedule. She would be up and bustling about well before the first cry of the cuccos, when the sun was just coming out, and in good spirits too, humming and fiddling about without a care in the world.

He admired his grandmother, though he could have done with an hour two more of rest himself.

Milos tried and failed at falling back to sleep then as the fluttering light persisted. And so, opening both eyes, and widening his jaw to yawn, the young Bard propped his head up on a numb hand, blinking away the bleariness clouding his eyes. Old Grandma Maya had a silly smile on her lips, that smile you'd see old folk make when they'd see something that tickled their fancy.

"What are you doing, grandma?" he asked curtly and groggily. "It's barely sunrise."

"Barely?" she huffed, keeping her eyes trained just outside the window from where she perched herself. "The sun's been out for an hour, dear grandson, you best be out of bed, otherwise you'll grow up with gooey bones and wobbly muscles. Come along. Up, up, up."

"Why are you staring out the window?" Shaking his head, Milos sat up and stretched with a sigh.

"Wouldn't you like to know," the old woman chuckled impishly, as if baiting his interest. A shame it was, seeing how it worked all too well on the curious bard. With a groan and a puff, Milos dragged himself from his soft and warm bed, and slumped over beside his grandmother to catch sight of whatever had piqued the old hoot's interest… He blinked… And blinked again.

And by the goddesses, his jaw dropped!

All signs of drowsiness left the young boy's boy in an instant, and in its place came the vigor of youth, and he sprang into action. Bounding to his bedside chest, Milos flung open the hatch and pulled out the finest robes he had brought with him, and hastily fastened it around him, making sure every button was fastened neatly. Next came his boots, which could have done with a good shining―they had been caked with mud from traveling on foot the week before―but there wasn't time for that now!

"What on earth has gotten into you?" the old hoot laughed with twinkle-eyed delight. "You're like a wild hare bouncing about like that!"

"No time grandma!" Milos blew, and bolted off out the door of the small bedroom they shared. The young bard faltered in the common room, though, having caught a glimpse of his hair in the vanity tucked against the back wall. Sleeping so late hadn't done his silver locks any favors.

So, rolling up his sleeves, Milos drove his hands into the basin resting just below the mirror and wildly wetted his hair before combing his fingers through it to part it properly. With only a spare moment of fussing, he tied his hair back loosely, matching the style more common among well-to-do Hylian men, instead of Sheikah.

It was how he usually wore it in the Castle courts.

Satisfied with his work, Milos bounded out the door, leaving his little old grandma puzzled but ever so amused. "Be back for breakfast," she called out with a wheezy chuckle, and shuffled along her way back inside, musing over her strange little nephew.

Setting out at a brisk pace, Milos worked his way to the center of Kakariko Village, fixing and smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes all the while, trying his best to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach and the beating in his chest. He had no idea the Princess was going to visit the village, Milos thought she would still be slaving away in that lab of hers like she _always_ did, and yet here she was!

To think that his luck would have been so great that he would be visiting home at the same time the Princess of Hyrule― _his_ Princess―decided to grace Kakariko with her presence. Perhaps Hylia was on his side today… perhaps _She_ was planning something! Oh, it made the knot in his chest tighten, and his feet move quicker.

It was not long till he caught sight of Zelda kneeling before the prayer statue set in the middle of town for her morning devotional. She was impossible to miss. The way the shimmering shafts of light from rising sun caught her golden hair made her seem to positively glow and radiate, her beautiful form unmatched and unrivaled by any woman Milos had ever seen. Zelda was nothing short of divine in his eyes.

He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame…

Milos was so close then; he was just about to open his mouth to call out to her, when terrible misfortune caught him by the collar, practically yanking him back off his heels. Goddesses above, the young bard had forgotten all about _him._

Sulking with a face that could curdle milk, Sir Link silenced Milos with a sinewy finger pressed against his own lips, his bold eyebrows furrowing with a curt impatience he had become well associated for. With a growl the young Bard swatted at the Knights hand, but Link's iron grip remained tight around his collar, holding him in place until at last Milos ceased his futile struggling against the deceptively strong _boy_.

"What are you doing?" Milos hissed quietly, massaging around his neck where his collar had bitten into his skin.

"Not while the Princess is praying," Link answered.

"You could've have been gentler, you know," Milos ranted grumpily. "There's no reason to strangle a man just trying to greet his friend." At best, that earned a stern eye from Sir Link. _Apparently_ , the humble Milos was too far belowthe _mighty_ Hero's _great_ reputation to deserve any sort response. Goddesses above, Milos swore he could have punched the man square in the nose. Maybe then he'd learn a little common civility!

"How long has she been praying?"

"An hour." Link said, crossing his arms.

"How long does she usually pray?"

"Depends."

"Depends on what?" Milos prodded, crossing _his_ arms as he waited with irritation. Sir Link sure took his sweet time on answering.

"Depends on how she feels."

"And I'm sure you know all about that, _Hero?_ " Milos teased, but given Link's stoic expression he couldn't be sure he even understood it to be a jab. The man was either willfully ignorant, or woefully dense when it came to the nuances of social interaction. Milos couldn't tell which was the case now.

At any rate, it was plain Sir Link would never understand how Zelda truly felt. Very few people did.

Naturally, Milos counted himself among that small group. After all, he was _her_ Bard. He'd play her any music she wanted to hear to brighten her spirits, or to make her laugh! That was his duty and great delight. And as of late, he hadn't had the chance to do that very thing, and it was all because of the fool glowering like a statue right next to him.

What did the Princess see in him anyways?

Young Milos simmered and pondered on that question for the better part of another hour as he waited till the Princess's guard dog finally permitted him to approach Zelda―albeit with slow reluctance. But Milos forgot about all that soon enough. Zelda's lovely eyes lit up with surprise as she rose to her feet after her long morning devotion, and her rosy lips cracked into an inviting smile. His heart beat like the wings of a humming bird.

"Milos, what are you doing here?" Her voice rang like crystal in his ears.

"Visiting family, like I always do in the first weeks of Spring, Princess," Milos said coolly with a neat bow. "I'm surprised you forgot of my absence."

"Ah," Zelda began with a polite air. "Of course. I am sorry, my mind has been rather occupied as of late, the smaller things seem to slip my memory easily. All the same, I am glad to see you here. What luck we have that I would be visiting Kakariko at the same time."

"Is it luck or is Hylia smiling down on us?" Milos gave his most charming grin and was bolstered with a sense of pride when the Princess gave a small laugh that crinkled her nose. "How long will you be in town? Perhaps my family could prepare a dinner in your honor? We are a humble family here, but Grandma Maya is next to none in the kitchen. We would be delighted to host our Princess."

Sadly, however, Zelda's change in face gave away an answer that broke his naïve heart.

"I'm afraid we leave soon," the Princess answered, sparing a glance to the brooding Knight that hovered over their conversation so irritatingly; a silent reminder that they weren't alone. Such news saddened the young Bard, but it paled in comparison with the way he felt when he saw the manner in which Zelda looked at that _Sir Link._ Where there was once a cold or distant disposition between them―a disposition he felt was only natural given his personality―the Princess now looked upon her Knight in a light that made Milo's stomach twist.

It was a look of solidarity… companionship.

"Elder Impa has advised me to begin a pilgrimage, in hopes of furthering my training…" Zelda paused, her gaze becoming downcast. "I am cautiously optimistic about it, however. After all these years of striving and testing, it is hard to invest much more than _that_ in any one action. But I will try nonetheless."

"Surely there is no harm in giving yourself a chance to relax and recuperate, Princess?" Milos argued, taking Zelda's hand in his, patting it gently. With any luck, he would convince her to stay, if even for one more night! "Day after day spent in riding in a saddle is not good for your health, and I've experienced firsthand how hard a driver our _valiant_ Hero is." Milos of course tuned his voice to a lighter tone at _that_ playful slight, but it was not indicative of how he truly felt.

Sir Link was as hard a driver as a rancher herding his stock: _Up at dawn, ride till dusk, no frivolous breaks, and absolutely no fun!_

"He's not bad as all that, Milos," Zelda teased, far friendlier than the young Bard would have liked. Not that her words seemed to have an affect on the dull man, his face was still as unreadable as stone. "He's spent far more time traveling than you or me, he knows what's best. I trust him to get us where we're going safely and on time."

Milos ground his teeth.

"Is there nothing I can say to convince you to stay, Princess?" His heart sank lower when the Princess unfortunately frowned and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Milos, I really am, but I've already sent word to my father by Rito courier letting him know exactly when I should be returning. We have a schedule to keep to now. But I look forward to seeing you again back at the Castle. It's been too long since I heard your music…"

And so, hopes dashed and heart broken, Milos had to accept defeat. What little time was left, the young Bard spent beside Zelda, expertly occupying the space between her and Sir Link, though sparing not an eye or a word to the man. All the while, he could feel the Hero's eye boring holes in the back of his head. A strange sensation to be sure, but one he was not a stranger too. Oddly, however, it felt stronger than it had in the past… Milos began to wonder if perhaps the man had become jealous.

Such a suggestion had dangerous propositions. Were it true, Milos would be fighting an even harder battle than he previously thought, and it didn't help that he was already losing…

* * *

Zelda had become increasingly aware of when her Knight was brooding. Well, of course, he was nearly always _brooding,_ but the Hero was not always brooding with such purpose and discontent as he was now! As silly a juxtaposition as it was, there were discernable differences. She supposed she could have assigned different terms to define Sir Link's behavior, but Zelda wasn't sure where to draw the line between the two…

One thing was for certain though, today, Sir Link was brooding up a storm.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, donning a sweet smile to tease him. Coming down from wherever his head was, Link gave her a puzzled expression, and nodded slowly. "Don't give me that look, I'm only making polite conversation. You've been in your own little word for the last hour."

He seemed to have come to the same conclusion after she pointed it out, and the young boy sat straighter in his saddle, his watchful attention renewed and focused on the winding path ahead of their horses where all manner of _danger_ could be lurking.

"Fort Hateno is not far from here," Link stated, avoiding the Princess's questioning eyes. "From there we can take the road north through the Dueling Peaks, and head west to Lake Hylia. Faron will be short thereafter. Of course, we'll have to make camp either on the road or in Deya Village for the night. The village might suit you best, Princess, but it's up to you."

"Wouldn't it be faster to go through Hateno Village and take the pass up and over into Faron directly?" That was the most logical route, after all. Sure, it was a little bit off the beaten path, but it would allow them more than ample time to find the prayer pool buried somewhere deep in that jungle. From there it would be simple enough to reach Fural Village, and loop back around north for a straight shot back to Hyrule Castle.

Zelda waited for Link's answer, but he seemed reluctant to give it. He was beginning to brood again.

"Sir Link?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes… I suppose it would be…" What had gotten into him today, the Princess wondered?

"You can tell me what's on your mind, you know?" Zelda offered. "Its not like there's anyone nearby to spy in on us."

Till they reached Fort Hateno it was unlikely they'd stumble on anything more than a few birds or wild squirrels that darted across their path. Travelers rarely used this road. And not even had Milos followed them any further than the gates of Kakariko Village. Hylia bless him, but Zelda was suspecting that silly boy was thinking foolish thoughts, prompting _foolish_ actions.

An issue for another day, though. There were more important things to worry about.

"Do you think Hateno Village is the _poorer_ option?" Zelda repeated. Link steeled his expression, tempering out any and all indecisiveness from his voice. Not that the Princess bought into that guise very much, there was clearly more he wasn't planning on sharing.

"No, you are correct, Hateno is the better option… If we set a good pace, we'll reach the village before dusk, and we can rest easy before setting out again early morning."

"Then why the hesitation?" the Princess pried, to which Link gave a rather rehearsed but resolute answer. "It's nothing of consequence," he said, heeling his horse to walk a little faster. "Forget I mentioned it."

Of course, this only piqued Zelda's interest more, but she didn't press Link too hard for an answer yet. Yet… She'd find out in due time what had her Knight acting hesitant and stubborn. Perhaps Link had some sort of feud with a local there, as unlikely as it sounded, or maybe he was just anxious to be taking the Princess of Hyrule along with him on a trip down memory lane.

Was he embarrassed possibly? Nervous of what she'd think? Zelda hid a mischievous grin…

Oh, the possibilities were endless! After all, Hateno Village was once the humble Hero's home. Zelda couldn't help but wonder what sort of marvelous mysteries she could uncover there. Secrets and stories, he wouldn't tell her? Firsthand accounts of who the Man who Freed the Sword was before he had ever done the deed?

Already she was preparing mental notes in her head to write down for later, for science no less.

* * *

HAYO!

I promise I didn't die in the last month and a half, although with all the crazy things happening around the world you never can be too careful! (So stay safe, my friends.) Anywho, I think you all know where this is going next in the story! We only have a few more memories to get through, i.e. a few misc. memories, memories at the goddess statues, Hyrule castle, and then of course the untimely calamity, all puns intended. I've had a few people ask me how much longer this story will go on, and the answer is probably too long for the good of the story because my pacing is whack on this work, so my apologies for that!

But, I can say for certain that we are in fact getting close to the end of the pre-game events, and as I have said in previous AN's, I have a couple ideas of what will go down for post-game story. It won't be a full drawn out story, but there will be a few chapters for closure and good old healing of the spirit, because we all know poor Zelda will have just come down from a one-on-one fist fight to death with one ugly-ass pig for 100 years, she's going to need some serious R&R.

Till next time!

-Bold


	58. Book 3 Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Hateno Village

Brushing aside a persistent hair that kept falling in front of Zelda's eyes, the Princess of Hyrule spent her evening enjoying the cool costal breeze that had come over the rounding hills of the Hateno province, finding its many sights and sounds to be calm and soothing. The cicadas and crickets chirped and hummed in the nearby tall grass with every stomp of her horse's hooves, sending them scattering wildly, and the birds above flew back to their nesting places among the blooming trees in preparation for the coming nightfall.

Zelda had never been this far south before, though she had studied countless maps and books that detailed the lay of the land and all its native fauna and flora. It was an interesting study to say the least, one the Princess took up shortly after she and her Knight had come upon friendlier terms that winter. It was all done in the hopes of learning even a little bit more about what her mysterious guardian's life must have been like before he was called forth by the Blade.

And given the spectacle before her, she determined it was surely a pleasant life here.

Her studies of the region hadn't done Hateno justice. Try as they may, books and maps simply couldn't describe the way the wind felt on your face, or the way the dew of the green field and hills smelled quite as well as actually being there yourself to experience such sensations. True, Hyrule field had many similar sounds and feelings and smells, but Hateno was uniquely different in the faintest of ways.

The Princess made sure to take plenty of photographs on her Sheikah Slate, rendering the countryside in true-to-life colors and shape, no detail left blemished or uncaptured. An amused smile slipped across her lips.

In short, she was having a rather wonderful time on their trip through the winding gravel roads of Sir Link's last homeland, though she could not say how he himself felt on the matter. As usual, he had taken to silence for the last few hours of their trip, donning a face that couldn't be described as plain _or_ expressive, which made it hard to guess what he was thinking. Harder than usual that is.

Still, she wasn't sure what to make of his behavior lately, and why he was so hesitant in coming to Hateno. No amount of cunning questions or schemes could get a satisfactory answer out of him, but Zelda hadn't lost all hope yet. After all, soon she'd have the upper hand on him: access to people who knew Link personally long before he became the Hero.

"You know these fields well, yes?" the Princess asked, hooking her Sheikah Slate at her hip. "It must have been fun exploring all the little hidden places and forests here." Link considered her for a moment, dull eyes giving way to a hint conviviality.

"Yes… Days I didn't spend hunting, I was on countryside, plowing, herding, and mending for the local ranchers. Anything that needed doing, I suppose. It kept me busy."

"Hard but honest work," Zelda agreed. "I'm sure your employers are missing you now, they must have lost a diligent worker."

"I don't believe so," he replied assuredly, strangely seeming to take a small pride in that fact. "There's always young sons and grandsons to take up the slack here, I'm confident they've done just fine without me. They are a hardy people―resilient and stubborn to a fault."

"Stubborn to a fault?" the Princess joked. "If that's the case then I can see now where you get it from."

Link furrowed his eyebrows dissentingly at her, which was exactly the sort of face she had expected he would make. Which made it all the more amusing. Of course, he didn't deny it resoundingly, _that_ would have only proven her point, so instead the young Hero stuck to what he knew best and simply thinned his lips, eyes squinting as he did. She found it rather endearing.

The village gates came into view right about then; the smell of chimney smoke grew distinctly stronger with every step, and upon their entry a number of benevolent faces turned to look at them with mixtures of stark surprise and utter fascination. Some even blinked profusely, as if they weren't sure their eyes were seeing truth.

A brawny young man with skin darkened by years spent tending fields was the first to approach them, pulling off his brimmed hat and hesitantly fiddling with his appearance. Bright blue eyes danced between the Princess and Hero, till at last he asked, "Link, is that really you? Hylia above you look like a new man."

Swiftly hopping down from his horse, Link landed at the brawny man's feet, barely standing tall enough to even look over the man's shoulders. "It's me, Tal," he assured the man, clapping a firm hand over the farmers arm, only to be unceremoniously pulled into burly hug rivaling that of a Goron.

Zelda couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh," Tal exclaimed, quickly releasing Link to offer an awkward and unpracticed bow before shouting, "I'm sorry, your―um―?"

" _Highness,"_ Link whispered.

"Oh! Your Highness… we've never had a princess around these parts… 'suppose I've never had to bow before! Very sorry about that. Um―welcome to Hateno Village." The silly man continued to fiddle with the front of his sun-beaten shirt, as if he was worried it was too dirty to be presentable.

"Its quite alright," Zelda replied with a smile she hoped would ease his nervousness before swinging a leg over her saddle and stepped down to meet the young man on a more even level. In the end the difference seemed the same, only favoring Tal's side. The man had quite an imposing stature, but his manners spoke of sincere gentility.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Tal. I hope our arrival will not disrupt the town's comings and goings." Even now as she spoke, a crowd of curious villagers began approaching, all with the same hesitant and hopeful gleaming eyes that Tal approached with.

"Are you kidding?" Tal laughed abruptly, once again pulling Link in with a burly arm over his shoulders, crushing the young man. "We've not had anything as exciting as this in months, Princess, you best bet we're going to throw a party. Right everyone?" Striving with new sanguine confidence, Tal turned to the crowed and with a voice that boomed as loud as a town crier, he declared:

"Come on everyone, Link is home, and he brought a Princess with him!"

And you wouldn't believe the sight of it all! Zelda hardly believed it herself. All in an instant it was if the whole village had appeared before them in a great jubilant crowd that cheered and laughed as they piled in around Link and Zelda and their horses, showering them both with grand 'welcome's' and 'howdya-do's,' shaking hands, embraces, and dipping into awkward bows and curtsies.

Never before had Zelda received such a hospitable―and perhaps a touch over the top―welcome, not even in Zora's Domain or Goron Village!

Poor old Link looked as if he would implode from all the attention… that or he was running out of air to breathe, considering how each and every local seemed to strangle him in a tight hug. His face was redder than she had ever seen it. Why, even the little ones seemed to remember him well, and demanded that he pick them up for a proper greeting.

The Princess tried to listen in on what the villagers were saying to Link with open smiles and laughter, but it was all washed out by another ten or twenty laughing and talking in waves. She wondered if this was why he wanted to avoid reaching Faron through Hateno Village. Link never did seem to enjoy many eyes on him. Even at the Winter's Ball earlier that year he snuck around the outskirts of the party to avoid conversation.

It was a wonder he asked her to dance at all that night.

And so, with a thunderous roar of voices, Link and Zelda gradually worked their way further into the village as the locals continued to swarm them, bogging Link down with endless questions the Princess was dying to hear but could not. She had her own swath of questions to answer from the bolder locals. Her mouth began to feel dry from the heat and all the talking, and at one point she lost the reins of her horse, but a kind stranger was quick to capture it again and offered to tie it up wherever she pleased.

Zelda supposed he was a groom of some sort, given his confidence and ease with such an imposing animal―especially with one as stubborn and skittish as hers―so she left the man to it, betting and hoping on his trustworthiness. In the end she had nothing to worry about, as at last there came relief in the thick crowd, and they reached the town center where a lovely quaint inn awaited them. Both her horse and Link's were cared for and unsaddled before being tied off to the porch rails, nickering and clicking with relief now that they didn't have a hundred hands brushing past them.

The little ones showered Zelda's horse with secret gifts of red apples and oats, though, enamored by the beauty of its snow-white coat and crystalline eyes. The dipy steed didn't have any qualms with that, mind you.

Lanterns had already been lit by then, as the sun had only just fallen below the mountain peaks, casting long shadows on the village, giving the inn a warm and welcoming appeal, and although the common room was nearly empty when they first arrived, each and every chair, table, and corner seemed to fill up with droves of bubbling smiles.

A seat was given to the Princess at the forefront of the room, where she could scan the crowd freely.

It took a moment for Zelda to find her Knight lost among the mob, but she _did_ find him eventually. The boy, still flush and preoccupied with a dozen questions pouring at him all at once, had a tankard shoved into his hand by then, though he could hardly enjoy it without someone coming along and clapping him on the back, sloshing his ale all over his tunic.

It had to have been the funniest spectacle the Princess had ever seen.

She did catch Link's eye for a moment, though, and he blew a puff of air, shaking his head ever gently as if he himself were surprised by their _exuberant_ welcoming. But before long he was once again preoccupied by another villager dumping endless questions upon him. Zelda wondered if she had ought to try saving the poor boy, but she had mind again to simply enjoy the show.

Lucky for him, however, this great tavern chaos eventually found the semblance of order as one voice shouted out over the crowd to hush them. It was the mayor of the town, Zelda decided, though he did not introduce himself as such. With a balding head and a neatly kempt vest that was tight around his enormous belly, he made for a picturesque mayor in her mind, and he had the character to match.

"Quiet down, quiet down," he cried, taking his stand on an old wobbly stool and sticking his hands in his vest pockets. "There we are. That's more like it." The townsfolk fell into a hush, eager to hear what the Mayor had to say. "Forgive me for my tardiness," he began, giving an honest go at sounding proper. "I came as soon as I caught word of our surprise guests."

Giving the Princess his attention and a jolly smile, he bowed expertly from atop his stool, never once faltering in his balance.

"Your Highness, you do our village a great honor with your presence, though I fear our people were not exactly well―em―decorous in their greetings. I offer my sincerest apology if we have offended you in any way."

"Not at all," Zelda answered loudly for all to hear, much to their relief. "It was actually rather amusing; I am delighted to have been welcomed so kindly. I can only hope we have not disrupted your daily lives too much, as I am sure you are all very busy folk." Reassuring murmurs and excusive hums passed among the villagers, putting Zelda's worry to rest.

"Here in Hateno, work to be done can be done another day, dear Princess," the Mayor summarized. "It only takes a little more perseverance in the morning, and a touch harder work, nothing we can't handle! No, tonight is a special occasion, and that means more ale for Link, and a lovely vintage wine for our Princess." A cheer arose from across the tavern bar, where the tender vanished into her cellar, no doubt to dig up the finest bottle she could find.

Zelda didn't even try to decline the offer, though a glass of wine was the last thing she wanted after a warm day of riding. Something just told her the villagers wouldn't take no for an answer, so she simply smiled, and graciously accepted the gift. Naturally an assortment of other various drinks was passed among the villagers old enough to drink, and before long the Mayor declared a toast.

"To the return of the Village Hero," he shouted, lifting his glass high. "And to the Princess of Hyrule, may she live long and well under Hylia's watchful eyes." With a breath he downed his share in one great gulp. Zelda noted Link's interesting honorific title… there was something very personal about it, as if the Mayor meant that he was more than just the _'Hero,'_ of all Hyrule… No, it was something more than that.

"Now, enough out of me, let us hear from Link―oh, now don't give me that look, lad, you shirked us all at the last Harvest Festival―now up you go, come along." To Zelda's endless amusement, Link was practically hoisted up by his companions, and set up on the stool the Mayor had vacated for him, and now only standing a head or two taller than the villagers he had the chance to furrow his eyebrows at the whole lot of them.

They didn't seem to care in the slightest.

"Speech!" some shouted, "tell us what adventures you've been on," others cried, but generally most wanted to know what life at the Castle was like, and though he mulled there questions over with a tight-jawed expression, it looked like he _would_ answer them. Sitting from her proud perch, rather enjoying the fact that they were hardly paying her any attention now, Zelda eagerly leaned forward, brimming with anticipation. This was far better an advantage than she could have ever hoped for.

"Life at the Castle is fine," he said plainly and slowly. "…The food is excellent…"

A terse, unbearable silence settled in.

"Hylia above, you haven't changed at all Link," a giggly heckler said from the back, and the crowd broke into a well-intended laughter at the Hero's expense. "Tell us more! What's it like havin' servants and maids?"

Link's face furrowed in puzzlement.

"I don't have any servants..." he explained, as if that should have been an obvious matter of fact. "There is a laundry maid though. Not sure she appreciates how many tunics I've ruined."

"That's not true," Zelda chimed in, adding to fun. "That little wash maid just adores you." _And that_ fact was plain enough to see. Amilia, the silly girl, was just short of smitten with the Hero, though she did not have the courage to admit it. A harmless sentiment that was, she was but a little girl, but the fact still remained. You could see it in her shy smiles and nervous glances.

Nevertheless, Link narrowed his eyes doubtfully, electing to ignore such a suggestion.

"We've been on the road mostly since spring arrived," he continued. "I'm afraid we won't be here long. We leave in the morning to Faron Woods." The villagers didn't quite gasp at that, but there did come a palpable worrisome feeling that settled over the room. One woman, with a swaddled child tucked in the crook of her arm, voiced her concern, saying, "Whatever for? Faron's dangerous woods, even for you, dear."

Sir Link's cautious eyes moved to the Princess, as if worried that he had spoken out of turn. Zelda shook her head, assuring him of no wrongdoing, but the attention of the room fell on her all the same with curious gazes… She hesitated to reply.

Perhaps, the Princess mused, she should have not be so readily amused by Link being put under the same open interrogation, it felt far worse being on the other end of that mess. Luckily though, Link took the charge on answering the woman's question… and by Hylia she felt something strange stir in her chest as he did. It was a simple declaration really, in Sir Link's plain words, but there was something so very reassuring about it.

"The Princess," he began in an assertive―but not forceful―tone, "is courageously undertaking a pilgrimage, you see. There is an ancient prayer pool buried deep in that jungle; I've stumbled upon it once before in my travels, and I am certain it can be found again. Now I cannot say I know what it is we'll do when we get there, but I have faith Princess Zelda will find purpose or answers for herself and take the next step towards fulfilling her duty."

The room contemplated his answer for a while, and then seemingly all at once they made up their minds on the matter, and put their trust in his words, nodding and offering encouragements to the Princess, as if it was just the thing she _should_ do. Some locals inquired further, however still not quite understanding what the purpose of the Princess's pilgrimage was, but Link was quick to explain the situation in terms they seemed to grasp.

It was strange seeing that change come over him… As soon as the subject matter no longer surrounded himself, he had no reservations or stoic dispositions about it, he simply answered in cool and collected words. He truly was a peculiar man, Zelda mused. Peculiar indeed, but she was very grateful then to call him her Knight and friend.

For the better part of an hour Link remained standing on that wobbly stool that he had been imprisoned on, answering all sorts of odd questions about his recent adventures. And of course, Zelda took the liberty of interjecting facts and excerpts he tried very hard gloss over, with decidedly humorous results.

She could have sworn his skin flushed on more than one occasion. A wonderful result indeed! Purah would be proud.

Link spoke of their trip up Death Mountain, and Zelda told the crowd of how he fearlessly faced down a horde of monsters. He spoke of meeting Daruk, the mighty Goron, and Zelda added how they threw a grand party and got Link so drunk he passed out sitting. He spoke of Zora's Domain and its beauty in the late spring evenings, the frigid mornings and sunny days spent in the high places of Rito Village, he told them all from his own perspectives. Some perspectives not even the Princess had the privilege of hearing before.

"Daruk," he acclaimed, to the children's wide-eyed wonder, "is taller than a horse, as wide as a house, and stronger than Mister Tam's oxen." A willowy man with a straw hat in the crowd beamed with pride and gave a small cheer, pleased to have been mentioned in passing in the Hero's tale.

"Mipha," Link noted in gentler tones. "There's not a scratch or bruise she can't heal, or a burden she'll leave tended to alone."

"Revali," he said with a firm―and perhaps competitive―respect. "A hard and experienced warrior he is. I doubt there's any Hylian that could ever best him in archery."

"Urbosa." He gave an accentuated pause. "Cunning and wise. She gave me more than a handful of riddles I could have never dreamed of solving on my own."

He spoke in further detail of Gerudo Valley too, though Zelda spared him the shame of telling the crowd of his little adventures in _feminine_ disguise. No, not even Link was aware that the Princess knew _that_ little truth, but she had no intentions of ever using it against him. The same could not be said of Urbosa, however. She was quite proud of that scheme and threw her head back to roar with laughter when she recounted it.

Thinking back now, it really was quite funny, though near impossible to imagine.

Still, it was only a matter of time before the word 'Yiga' came up, and with it came the dull pull of sensitive emotions in Zelda's chest…. It was a topic she hoped would have been avoided.

But she was at Link's mercy now, regarding that whole mess. The Yiga attack was by her own naïve ignorance, and that meant she couldn't throw a fit about it. She would be deserving of any ill feelings sprung up from the telling of _that_ tale. In her eyes, it was her action alone that needlessly put them both in danger that day.

But Link never did tell…

"The Yiga," he said in a serious tone. "They're dangerous people. Urbosa's maidens managed to get a tight grip of them and washed them out of their den."

"Did _you_ have a run in with them, dear?" a concerned grandmotherly figure asked, clutching a shawl around her as if it were a cold winter's day. Many others hummed similar concerns.

"Only a small one," he lied expertly, a knowing glance finding the Princess's eyes. "No one was hurt, though I'm sure those Yiga will think twice before getting crossing blades with the Gerudo… those women are as fierce as any soldier I've seen."

And that was that. Link never told them any more. He never told them of the men he killed by his own hand, of the blood that stained his tunic red, of the danger he was put in. He never told them that the whole reason he had to do it was because one Princess's own selfishness.

She would have to thank him for that later. Earnestly.

And that chance came sooner than she had expected. Being all crammed into one small tavern, the air inevitably became hot and stuffy, so under the scrupulous directing of the town Mayor, they all cleared back out into the grassy village square, where a makeshift bonfire was hastily thrown together to light their merry little midnight party, and they danced and sang to their hearts content as the night grew deeper and darker.

Fireflies darted madly about in the pitched black of the spring night and what young ones that were still awake set chase, hoping to capture one for themselves and learn of what great _magic_ made them shine. Zelda had half a mind to join them, fireflies were an interesting species to exam, though it was rather impossible to study them without proper magnification lenses, unless…

Her train of thought was interrupted when Link suddenly flopped down beside her in the dewy grass, having finally managing to free himself from the incessant―though markedly thinning―crowd. He breathed a long sigh of relief.

"Had you fill already?" the Princess said, grinning impishly. Link grunted groggily, but with some small amusement. "You did well, though. I've never seen you talk so much."

"I've never been hounded for answers quite so relentlessly," he replied. "Not even you and Purah combined could compare to… _that."_ The Princess choked on laughter, though she tried to cover her smile when Link shot her a narrowed look.

"No, I don't think we could. But I am glad to hear I don't get on your nerves to such a degree."

"I'm not frustrated with _them…"_ Link interjected, and with a thoughtful pause he added, "and you don't get on my nerves, Princess. Its just that I don't… well…" He seemed unable to find the right words, nor could any hand gesture he made substitute for an answer, but Zelda understood what he was trying to say.

"Some people just aren't the type to give grand speeches?" she offered.

Link nodded readily.

"You're an attentive listener and observer Sir Link, among other things, and I think there is immense value in that. Believe me, I've dealt with my fair share of long winded and loose lipped Knights and Ladies in court, and more often that not they have nothing more valuable to say from their first sentence to their last. Your integrity speaks of your character more than you know."

Link blinked at her, his expression not shying away from a trace hints of surprise. Pleasant surprise.

"Reading you is sometimes like trying to read a brick wall, though," Zelda continued kindly. "And I will admit I would enjoy hearing your thoughts on matters more often, but…" It was strange. She hadn't thought up these words before she began, yet they all just came so naturally to her. "That doesn't mean I don't also appreciate your willingness to simply listen."

With a reflective demeanor, Link pondered her words― _as he always did―_ and took to watching the villagers wind down by the fire as somnolence slowly gripped them. Even the little ones, with such boundless energy, had given up on their pursuit of catching fireflies and tucked themselves away in their parents' arms. Peace and silence had begun to settle over the camp.

"They care for you, you know," Zelda said quietly, regarding the village. Link hummed a sure but soft agreement. "They act more like family than neighbors, really, its been quite the show. Oh! Speaking of which, I forgot to even ask, don't you have actual family here? I seem to recall my father saying you had some relation in Hateno, though it was a long time ago, and I can't quite remember..."

Link paused palpably.

"No. Not anymore." There was a reservation in his voice that alarmed the Princess. "My mother was from here, but she passed away."

"I'm so sorry," Zelda quickly replied. "I had no idea. How long ago was this?"

"Last year, before winter."

"Before last winter?" That meant it happened after Link had drawn the Master Sword and was well established as her Appointed Knight. Scouring her mind, Zelda tried to recall faded memories of anything out of the ordinary. Very few came to mind at first, but there was one instance that stuck out…

"That day you suddenly up and left? Just before I ran off to the Gerudo Desert, I remeber you received an urgent note! You left because of your mother." Dread and a terrible guilt turned the Princess's stomach. Had her timing been so drastically horrid?

"It was then," Link answered with hesitancy, taking note of what was an undoubtedly stricken expression on Zelda's face. "But it was my choice to not say why," he reassured her. "You had no knowledge of it, Princess, so there is no need to feel bad on my account."

"Why didn't you tell me? I know we weren't on good terms then, but I'd like to believe I wouldn't have been so heartless as to run off then, Link." Truly, if there was one mutual feeling she could have understood back then, it was that of losing one's own mother! It was a heart wrenching affair; a wound that took years to heal.

"I didn't know how." He wouldn't look Zelda in the eye anymore. "And I didn't see what good would come from it at the time. I guess if I had known you'd run…"

Link didn't continue _that_ thought, but Zelda assumed the implication. How sad it was to think about how little they once understood of one another.

"Well, its pointless worrying about it now." Link abruptly stood and patted down his tunic where grass had clung to it before softly saying, "The past is in the past, Princess, and all we can do is move forward, like we've always done… I'll go make preparations at the inn; they have a few good rooms."

"Link…" He had only made it a few steps before he stopped and turned. His face was hard to see in the dark of night, silhouetted by the campfire, but she could still make out the figure of a somber expression. Zelda spoke nearly in a whisper. "I know what it's like. I know how it hurts. You're not alone in this."

The Hero gave her words a moment for consideration, then nodded a silent thanks, and set off towards the inn.


	59. Book 3 Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Faron

Ominous gray clouds hung over the sleepy village of Hateno with unfulfilled promises of rain to come, but Zelda tried to not let it disturb her focus as she knelt and prayed before Hylia, as demanded by her routine morning devotions. True as it was, an untimely deluge would certainly make their trip through the passes and winding trails from Hateno to Faron forest a bit hazardous, but they were hard set to the task of completing her pilgrimage. And at any rate, she had faith Sir Link would lead her to safely.

"I pray for your continued guidance," Zelda continued in a low voice, eyes closed tightly. "And for your protection as we set out to complete this pilgrimage, in honor of you name and decree..." Was it _her_ decree, though, the Princess wondered? Zelda couldn't really say, this was all but a dim hope in the dark of countless years spent searching for answers.

As always, no answer, nor sign or suggestion, came in reply for the Princess. And yet, so little reaction stirred within her.

Had her heart had become callus to that fact? Perhaps, Zelda wondered, that was one more failing of many as seen in the eyes of the heavens: indifference? Sad as it was, it felt as if her heart had in recent weeks been hardened her heart against the dull throbs of discontent. And yet, maybe in the same vein, indifference was not the right word to use…. No, she still very much cared, but it was as if the sting of failure had lost its bite.

Numb…

Yes, numb was a better way to describe how she felt. A somber numbness. A lack of feeling that, yet while encompassing, could wax and wane in moments of deep contemplation, as if an awareness of its presence reveled to her how wanting she must have been before the eyes of Hylia. And it was there, in that very same _thought_ , that the sharp pain of failure returned… a pain she did not want to bear any longer necessary.

And so, despite her worries of upsetting the heavens any more than they already were, Zelda rose from her prayer, and found distraction in the telling eyes of her guardian and companion.

The air between Zelda and her Knight had been awkward since the night before, though the Princess could not say as to whether it was of her own invention, or if the feeling was held mutually. At any rate, Link was resoundingly quiet today, all in exception to his extraordinarily expressive eyes. Yes, it was _this morning_ that it was the Hero that was trying to read the Princess, and not the other way round.

"We have a long road ahead of us," Zelda said, dusting off the front of her pants. She skipped wearing her prayer dress today. "I guess we shouldn't tarry long."

Link nodded, and then gave a pause, opening his mouth to say, "Princess, there is some small business I must attend to not far from here. It shouldn't take long…"

"Of course," Zelda replied hesitantly, and curiously. "We can stay as long as you need." Well, they couldn't stay _very_ long, there was a lot of ground to cover between here and Faron, and most of it would be spent winding through rugged terrain where horses were best used with great caution, lest risking injury to them. All it took was one loose rock to cause a horse to stumble on the mountain side and break their leg.

It would have been as good as a death sentence for the poor beast.

Slow and steady would win that race, and that meant they needed to move soon. Luckily, Link understand this well, and was quick about leading the Princess onwards and upwards from the small alcove by the river where the lone staute of Hylia rested, just on the outskirts of town. Although, on their way up, the Hero took a different turn, leading them northward where the oak trees grew thick and the gravel roads gave way to dirt and dewy green grass.

And before long they came to a small wooden bridge that spanned over the same river that cut through Hateno Village. On the other side there stood a small cottage of humble but sturdy making, decorated in the same style as the rest of the village: white stuccoed walls, a clay slated roof, and a tall leaning chimney that reached high above the trees.

The cottage was tucked away in a secluded part of the village, far from the hustle and bustle of the main square, which in Zelda's opinion only added to its charm, though she noted that it seemed a little rundown compared to the other nearby homes. A few slates missing there, a chip in the walls here, and the windows, although mostly left intact, were so dirty you could not see through them without first wiping it with your sleeve. The grass was nearly as tall as their knees too, not at all like the neatly tended to yards of the neighbors.

"Whose house is this?" Zelda finally asked.

"Well…" Link made a peculiar face, as if he hadn't thought of asking that very same thing. "I suppose it's mine now…"

"Your house?" The Princess froze in place, mortified. That could only mean… "This was once your mother's home then?" What a sad thought it was, seeing that neglected cottage decaying without anyone to tend to it, and sadder still was thinking of what events had made such a thing come to pass. The same sensation of guilt from the night before turned Zelda's stomach when Link finally acquiesced a slow and somber nod.

"I'm afraid it hasn't been very well taken care of…" he confessed, though very little emotion reached his voice. Absent mindedly, he reached out and plucked at a large crack in the outer wall, where the brick and mortar beneath now. "It's surprising how a few months of neglect can affect a house. But I aim to fix that now. There's just one thing…"

Sir Link never finished his thought howeverꟷnot aloud at leastꟷand instead marched onward till he came upon a small lean-to on the far side of the cottage and began pulling at the hatch. The grass had grown too tall for the door to swing open easily, but with a few hard tugs he tore it free and the rusty hinges groaned with a grating pitch.

"Link…" Zelda's voice did not seem to faze him as he skimmed and rummaged through the shed. She tried again, a little more urgently, but the clatter of a dozen iron tools drowned her out. A third time she tried, loudly, and at last Link's head popped out, a puzzled expression on his face. She softened her tone then, her skin sent tingling with embarrassment.

"Link, I'm sorry it's come to this. It's not fair that you have been pulled so far away from home, that duty required you to leave your mother… And it wasn't fair how inconsiderate I was back then."

Memories of Gerudo Desert flashed in her mind, flooding feelings of how foolish and selfish she had been. Had she only known the pains Link had been suffering then and now, things would have been different, she swore they would have. At least, that was the conclusion she had decided on after turning in bed the night before.

"I've already told you Princess, you share no blame in this," Link insisted, his hand at last finding the tool he had been looking for. He rolled the handle of an old shovel in his hands, as if gauging its balance and stability like a soldier would check their weapon, seeming displeased with the rusty spade. "We made a promise, remember? To put the past behind usꟷ"

"Yes, but I can't help but feel awful when I think about it," Zelda interrupted. "You should have been here, at home, not chasing some foolish Princess in the desert." She sighed, trying to put her words more eloquently. It would do no good to be gripped by too strong emotions now.

"I remember our promise, but I can't just wish or will this terrible feeling away." Zelda cast her eyes down at her feet, shying away from her Knight's piercing, assessing, gaze. "I can't stop thinking about how things could have been different if I hadn't been so childish."

She was surprised then, to suddenly feel a firm hand rest on her shoulder.

"Princess." Link's voice had become soft and sincere, just barely above a whisper. "I'm not angry with you, if that's what you are worried about. It's just…" He paused to think, yet even then, his words came slowly. "All I've ever been taught to do in these situations is to keep my head down and press on, Princess. Maybe it is not the best way, but it's the only way I know how, and that's good enough for me. So please, don't worry yourself over it anymore."

His hand fell away from her shoulder, and Zelda braved looking at his eyes again, but they were already turned away, inspecting the decay of his home.

"She was a remarkable woman," Link said to the open air, the unmistakable gentleness of affection in his tone… and something sadder. "Not the sort to complain or worry."

"What was her name?" the Princess asked.

"Helen," he replied, thoughtfully. "Most people said I took after her in appearance… I never could say one way or the other. But I can say this with certainty…"

At last, Link looked down at Zelda. "She wouldn't want you to guilty either."

And with a breath of finality, Sir Link took his shovel in hand and retreated around the back corner of the cottage where he sunk the blade of his tool in the soft earth and began to dig as if the weight of what they spoke of was no burden to him.

Puzzled and dreadfully hesitant, Zelda followed, not knowing what more she could say. There was some small peace to take away from this, however: Link's sincerity on the matter was plain to see. At the very least, _that_ could put the Princess's mind at rest for the time being, even if she could not accept his sentiments fully just yet.

"What are you doing?" she timidly asked, trying to move her thoughts elsewhere.

"There's an old chest buried here somewhere," he replied distractedly, without bending up from his work. Had he looked up Link would have seen the starkly bewildered look on the Princess's face.

"What ever for? And why would you bury a chest in your backyard?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to put it," Link answered as if it was a simple matter of fact. As if burying a chest in one's own backyard was merely common place! The Princess thought to ask him what was in said chest, but she decided it was likely he would find that chest before she could wring a straight answer out of him, so with a pause and a second thought Zelda marched back to the lean-to, combed through the dust and straw, and found a shovel of her own.

Of course, as she expected, Link made a horrified face when she returned, and opened his mouth to protest, but she shushed him before he even had the chance.

"I know what you're going to say," Zelda puffed, footing her spade into the soil of the _excavation site_. "And I assure you it won't make any difference."

"Butꟷ"

"I want to help," the Princess insisted. "Please."

Of course, Link tried to protest again, but the Princess merely waved his concerns away. "No fussing, Sir Link, I am not as fragile as all that. Besides, this is hardly the first time I've done my own digging. Purah and I used to search for fossils in dry riverbeds, you know. And I'll have you know I found an extraordinary impression of a Trilobite bigger than your hand."

Link's puzzled glance spoke well enough to his understanding of that statement, but at the very least it at last made him acquiesce without further complaint. Quietly, he continued digging away alongside the Princess, sweat beading on his brow.

Together they dug a little here, and a little there, and Zelda followed his lead. On more than a few occasions Link even aligned himself with the corner of the cottage and counted the paces due north in his head before striking new ground in their search for his mysterious buried chest. Yet, all attempts ended with a frustrated contortion on the Hero's face. Either he had forgotten where he once buried it, or they were not digging deep enough.

Luckily, however, their labors were not forever in vein, for within the hour Zelda's shovel at last struck something hollow with a dull _thunk._ Excitedly, they began clawing and sweeping aside the loose earth… And by Hylia, it really was a buried chest!

Although the outside of it was worse for wear, being covered entirely in rust, the chest itself seemed to be in an acceptable condition. Even as they used their tools to pry and leverage it from the dirt, the chest remained intact, never splitting at the rivets or hinges. Zelda was beginning to squirm with excitement. This was all like a story from a children's book, searching for buried treasure, the thrill of adventure!

With a huff and puff, Link finally dragged the chest out of the hole, stoutly insisting he could handle it, even as he reached the surface breathing as if he had run a mile. Zelda gave one tug on the handle to see how heavy it really was for herself and was shocked to find she could hardly budge it.

"What on earth is in this thing?" she laughed, wiping sweat off her face with her sleeve. "It weighs as much as a horse."

"Well…" Link made a strange face, as if hesitant, but he produced a small key from a pouch on his belt, and after digging mud out of the keyhole he turned the lock… and paused, a serious glint in his eyes. "You have to promise you won't tell anyone before I show you."

"Yes, yes, I promise, Link, don't keep me in suspense!" His expression narrowed critically. "I swear it," Zelda iterated solemnly, "Not a soul will know." And with that, Link finally nodded and pulled back the lid. And what was inside made the Princess's jaw drop.

Rupees, precious gems, and even gold fit for a treasure trove of a avaricious giant practically spilled over the brim. For a royal who had seen the inside of the castle vaults perhaps it was not much by comparison, but for a single man to possess this much wealthꟷburied in his own backyard no lesssꟷthe Princess was rightfully shocked! She could hardly believe it.

"How did you find all this? Where?"

"Hinoxs are a greedy bunch," he answered cryptically, shutting the lid and locking it back, giving the rusty old thing a few brushes of his hand to clean away the remaining dirt. "Its best I don't follow their example."

"Hinoxs?" Zelda exclaimed in wonder. They were a rare, near-extinct beast in this modern age of Hyrule, and hardly something you'd want to cross. Why, those monsters could de-root a tree with their bare hands, Hylia above, and they defended their hoard with their lives! "Don't tell me you've fought Hinoxs too?"

"Lynel are worse," Link blew, digging his heels in the ground as he took hold of the chest by the handle, and began towing it back towards the front of the house. "Much, much worse."

"Please, do elaborate," said the Princess, taking a hold of the other handle to help the poor boy drag that hulking burden. Although, they had a hard time speaking then, as with each heave and pull their breath grew short and laborious.

"Hinox, though strong, are rather slow and dumb," Link explained with a pant, taking a break between each heave to breath and speak. "Killing them is easy, the trick is not being caught by them. There were three here, once, up in the mountains northeast of Hateno, with a rotten trove to boot."

Link grimaced, as if the memory of it made him sick. "You could smell them before you ever saw them." The Princess cringed in a similar way, her active imagination painting an ugly and horrid sight of decaying carcasses and lumbering giants fast asleep atop their mounds.

"Although they left the villagers well enough alone, they'd stir up trouble with the shepherds, making off with the finest goats and sheep, even cattle. Hunting them down was my first job here in town, not long after I left Zora's Domain. The pay wasn't muchꟷjust what a few poor farmers could scrape togetherꟷbut I was allowed to keep whatever I could find." The two stopped then, having only come a few dozen paces.

Link motioned to the chest. "I've kept it mostly a secret since then."

"How incredible," Zelda awed, and then a smirk turned her smile. "I knew you were lying when you said you had no more fantastically wild stories to tell me, but this… this takes the cake, Link. The next time I hear you say you don't have anymore interesting stories to tell, I am putting my foot down, Sir."

To that, Link merely shrugged his shoulders, his challenge laid before her.

Nothing quite as exciting as finding buried treasure happened after that. Together, Link and Zelda drug that chest to the front of the cottage, where the Princess was surprised to find a drawn cart waiting for them, and a benevolent face to greet them. The man, whose skin was as dark as clay, called himself Renado, a shaman of the village.

He welcomed and greeted Zelda with a slow but well-practiced bow, speaking in familiar terms and tones with Link, as if they had been long friends. There was a calmness about the man that surprised Zelda, given his impressive stature and broad build, but she quite liked him. He was so unlike the other villagers of Hateno, yet just as kind and easily conversational.

In her time in that small town, the Princess had come to appreciate the plain and honest ways people spoke to one another. It was as if the boundaries of class and manners seeped away before you even knew it, and there in the breadth of normality the Princess felt so at ease and peaceful. It was as if she were talking to close friends and neighbors…

Of course, conversation might have gone on for quite some time, but Renado seemed to effortlessly note Sir Link's impatient body language, saying, "Well, enough about all that. There's business to attend to, yes? Lets get this chest into the wagon."

Which of course was no easy task, but with the towering man's help, the two together managed to wrestle the chest into the wagon, where it was covered and concealed to prying eyes.

"There's enough in there to mend the house and keep it in good order," Link said, pulling the big man aside before continuing quietly. "I don't know how long I'll be gone, Renado. It could be months, could be years, but there is enough all the same. And remember if there is anyoneꟷ _anyone at allꟷ_ in need or trouble, don't hesitate to lend them a hand. I'd rather this house crumble to the ground than let that happen."

"I will see to it, Link," the shaman promised him, his mellow expression turning into a warm smile, willfully ignoring the Hero's attempt at privacy. "You can put your trust in me, your house and the villagers will be taken care of, our future Queen as witness." Renado reached out to shake Link's hand, which was met firmlyꟷafter a brief, sassy, glareꟷno other reassurances needed.

They didn't stay long following that, but Zelda couldn't help but notice Link linger awhile, taking in the last sight of his mother's home before at last turning aside, a stoic and unreadable look on his face.


End file.
